


On the Altar

by zinjadu



Series: Knight-Errant [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dungeon Crawling, F/M, Gen, Kidnapping, Madness, Multi, Psychic Violence, Recovery, Rescue Missions, Revenge, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:12:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9365273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: After the events surrounding Tup's death and Fives' faked death, those who know about the chips are trying to quietly deal with them and figure out a way to deal with the Sith that has been pulling their strings.  However, Sidious has already set his newest attack dog on the young woman who seems to be near the center of events.  The young woman who is far too close to his desired apprentice.  The young woman who might just tip the balance against him.It is time for Ahsoka Tano to die.... Meanwhile, Anakin, Obi-Wan and Ventress (of all people) investigate a source of darkness on Coruscant and find more than they bargain for.TRIGGER WARNING: This fic will contain themes of sexual/psychic assault, post-traumatic flashbacks, and other related fallout.  Please proceed with caution.





	1. Off the Charted Course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is safe.
> 
> Chapters will contain individual ratings, because its important to me that everyone here is okay as we go through this stuff. Some of it is not nice, and I don't want people taken by total surprise. If you need to, when a chapter is "unsafe", skip it. I would be happy to send you an email with the broad brush strokes events, if you want, and to let you know when its safe or safer to come back.
> 
> This is also my first time writing something this dark. I am doing my best to do so while handling the issues respectfully. If you have any comments, concerns, corrections, please let me know.
> 
> My email is zinjadu.fanfic@gmail.com and I will always listen. <3

Ahsoka was, not to put too fine a point on it, frustrated as all hell at Rex.

 

It had been roughly a week since they had lost Fives. Not that he was marching far away, but he was gone from the 332nd all the same. Off, somewhere. She didn’t even have a way to communicate with him, knowing that her comms were likely monitored anyway. Instead, she had to hope that Barriss was keeping him safe, and trust that Zonder was keeping an ear out for him.

 

It had also been a week since she and Rex and nearly kissed.

 

Obviously, it would have been an ill-advised move. Upon reflection, she could easily concede that. They had both been hurting, feeling lost, and had wanted simple comforts.

 

Comforts they, technically, weren’t allowed.

 

None of that, however, was the cause of her current jaw clenching irritation.

 

The cause was that Rex flatly refused to talk about it while simultaneously not letting her out of his sight. He was the only trooper in the whole battalion who knew about the chips, knew and had his chip removed. As a result, he was meticulous about her safety. But he also maintained a closed, professional demeanor behind closed doors. In front of the other men, they could joke and be at ease, but the second they were alone, Rex all but closed down on her.

 

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to use the Force to shake him until he gave in or pin him against a wall and kiss him senseless.

 

Anything to get an actual response from him.

 

Instead, she got polite and deferential behavior.

 

It was _wrong_.

 

It got under her skin.

 

So, she did something she probably shouldn’t have.

 

She picked a fight with him. Not intentionally, perhaps, but she did it all the same.

 

It was late, ship-board time, and they were going over requisition forms, double checking the battalion compliment, and working to coordinate a few more items for the cantina, which some enterprising soul had named _Shereshoy_. The word that meant a lust for life and much more. It was rather apt, she supposed. At least it hadn’t been named after her.

 

Rex sat opposite her at her small desk in her small office, which was bigger than the space afforded to any of the troopers, even the command staff. Once, he would have sat next to her, looking over her shoulder, but now it was all distance and awareness of personal space.

 

Setting down the padd, she looked at him thoughtfully. He kept his posture hunched over the device, but glanced up from underneath his brows, sensing her scrutiny.

 

“I’ve been thinking about our problem,” she began to say, the words _our problem_ a less than inspired code for _those chips in our brother’s heads that could kill us all_. He sat back, his golden eyes glittering with anger and frustration at the whole situation. She tried to avoid the topic, because it upset him so much, but remaining silent wouldn’t fix anything.

 

“What about it?” he asked, voice measured in an attempt to cover the tension in it.

 

“We need to tell Erel,” she said baldly.

 

“No,” he said, tone sharp. She bristled at his tone.   Even when she had been a bratty Padawan, Rex had never been sharp with her. Instructive, thoughtful, and once just a touch grumpy, but never, ever sharp.

 

“He’s a surgeon, Rex. He could start removing chips,” she pointed out. Rex glared at her. Actually glared.

 

“Can’t trust him,” he said. “We’ve known him, what? A month or two? He’s good in a fight, and I’ll grant that he’s a good man. Wouldn’t have helped with the cantina otherwise. But he’s a Navy man, a Republic man. Don’t know which way he’ll jump.”

 

“So what? We just wait until the chips get activated, and then what?” she challenged, eyes narrowing. “Rex, I’m not a good enough Healer to get the chips out, and we can’t count on Kit being here any time soon.”

 

“I say no,” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms. “And you could still do it. You’re a Jedi General. My opinion is just that, I know, but there it is.”

 

“Do you really think I’d act without you on this?” she asked, a hurt lodged in her chest, and she could see in his eyes that he knew he had gone too far. Just as she knew she had overstepped. He looked away from her, but she could see the tightness in his jaw, the rigidness of his shoulders.

 

He stood.

 

“I should go, General,” he said, and without waiting for a dismissal, as he had begun to do again, he left.

 

She let him go, and thought maybe, she should let him go in other ways as well.

 

* * *

 

Rex felt trapped.

 

In fact, he’d quite like a good battle right about now. It would take his mind off of the problems that ran through his mind like gleeful, destructive goblins. That would be the only explanation for why he had said what he had said and in that tone, too. But it was as though everything had closed in around him. His very creation was all a smokescreen for something much, much worse. His brothers were once again victims of the ambition and greed of others. And to make matters worse, he had nearly, nearly broken the promise he had made about his general, a young woman who had been his friend for years.

 

He had nearly traded on her good, kind heart to steal a moment of comfort for himself.

 

Never mind that he had already come to terms with his affection for her, his love for her. A simple, straightforward kind of love, one he could accept because he didn’t think of her _that_ way. She was too young, for one. He had watched her grow up, for another.

 

Now, however, he couldn’t get certain images out of his head. Her blue eyes wide and dark, full of compassion for his pain. The feel of her cool forehead against his own. Her lips, full and slightly parted, and close, so close, their breath warm between them.

 

Rex had been terrified to think that he might _want_ her.

 

So he had retreated into his professionalism. Hid behind his training. He could see that it hurt her, confused her, but if he gave her any opening, he knew what she would do. She would try to talk it out, try to figure out what was going on between them.

 

And he knew he could only be so strong in the face of her persistence.

 

Since that night in her office, he had avoided her, but there was no way to do that completely. Not even on a ship as big as the _Adamant_. Only three days later, they found themselves on the bridge, with Kersos, looking at the drifting, desolate capital class ship. They had been drawn to this location by an old distress code, but one that had not been compromised.

 

“Could be a trap,” Kersos said thoughtfully. Rex tipped his head in the other man’s direction.

 

“Not outside the realm of possibility. Wouldn’t be the first time Seppies have used that tactic against us,” he said. Ahsoka looked ahead, blue eyes thoughtful.

 

“No, it wouldn’t,” she allowed, but her gaze never left the ship as it hung in the silence of space out their view window.

 

“I know that look well enough by now,” Kersos said, resignation in his eyes. “I don’t suppose I can talk you out of it, Ahsoka?” She turned to look at the admiral, a smirk in her eyes, if not her lips.

 

“You can always try, Erel,” she said, and Kersos snorted darkly.

 

“Fine, go. Just make sure you’ve got good backup,” he said, and inclined his head at Rex. Ahsoka’s eyes lost some of their spark, but she nodded.

 

“What do you say, Rex? Up for a little recon?” she asked, and he shifted his shoulders under his armor.

 

“Would be a nice change of pace, things have been a bit quiet lately,” Rex said, and it was true. Maybe this was their chance to get back to normal between them. Work, real work, to recover their equilibrium.

 

He gathered up his helmet and followed his general to the hangar bay, and Jesse came alongside him. Normally, the general and the commander didn’t go on these kinds of missions together, but well, he could just claim he needed to get off ship. Even if it was to another ship.

 

“Orders, sir, while you’re gone?” Jesse asked. They both tried to not pay attention to the space where Tup should have been. No one had been able to suggest another captain to replace their brother who had marched far away.

 

“Coordinate with Kersos, keep the flight squads on alert. Trust him to scramble if we need to fight, and get some gunships ready to go with boarding parties,” Rex listed, all things Jesse knew, but it was protocol. Even in the 332nd, protocol mattered.

 

“Understood, sir, but try not to have too much fun without us,” Jesse drawled. “You know how it gets, sir. The men get jealous of all the adventures you have.” Rex snorted in amusement, and put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder.

 

“I’ll see what I can do you, _vod_ ,” Rex said, and the other man clapped his commander on the shoulder in return. For a moment, they looked at each other, for what might be the last time, but slapped down on each other’s pauldrons again and went their separate ways. Jesse would look after the men.

 

Rex fixed his helmet and checked that his O2 levels were good, just in case the derelict had lost life support. The general had her life support pack clipped to her belt, and her mask hanging by her face. Without any apparent effort, she leapt into the cockpit of her small scout ship, and Rex settled in the second seat behind her. Not leaping like her of course, but with a fair degree of agility.

 

They were silent as they took off, the general piloting through the distance between the _Adamant_ and the ship before them. He kept an eye on the tactical displays and the comms. As they drew alongside the ship, Rex could see the signs of a hard battle along her hull, deep scores from canons and torpedoes. She listed a little, off the galactic plane that most ships tided to stay parallel to.

 

“Looks like the primary hangar bay is totaled,” Ahsoka said, and Rex saw that was certainly true. Burned out and full of debris. She circled the ship to the far side, headed to the secondary bay, out of sight of the _Adamant_. Rex sent a quick, coded message back to Kersos about their flight, receiving a brief note of thanks.

 

His general was kinder on her admiral than others, but she sometimes forgot little things like that.

 

She set them down neatly in the second hangar bay, this one damaged, but not unusable. They disembarked as soon as the sensors indicated that there was still breathable atmosphere. Their footsteps resounded in the large, empty space, and Rex turned on his helmet lights with a flick of his eyes over the HUD controls.

 

The general, of course, walked ahead of him into the gloom, her eyes far better suited to poor lighting conditions than his own. He kept one eye on her and the other on his readouts as they made a sweep of the hangar bay.

 

She stopped.

 

“I don’t like this,” she whispered, every line of her body taught, as she pushed her awareness through every sense that she had.

 

“You getting a feeling?” he asked, and in spite of the suspicion of danger, it was a relief to be _working_ together again. She swung her head from side to side as they moved out of the hangar and into the corridors, undoubtedly emitting bursts of high-frequency sound. Since her montrals had grown again, she was using them more and more to her advantage.

 

“Not a _feeling_ exactly,” she said cautiously, “more like a…”

 

He never found out what she was going to say, because suddenly the ship came to life. Lights clanged on overhead one by one, and the engines powered up. They looked at each other then, and although his eyes were behind his visor, her eyes were easy to read. Wide, surprised, but determined.

 

They ran back toward the hangar bay, but it was too late.

 

The ship had jumped into hyperspace.

 

* * *

 

Erel Kersos swore in several languages as he saw the supposedly derelict ship come to life and jump away. He sounded general quarters, and the men jumped to, Nav calculating the trajectory of the hyperspace jump. All he could do was watch. Jesse, the Captain left in charge of the 332nd, started rattling off orders, holding back the flight squadrons and getting the men ready to board and kill whoever had just taken off with their commander and general.

 

Looking around him, Kersos could see the steely-eyed determination in the clones to get their brother and general back, but he could also see the furious pace his Navy officers were setting. They had also appreciated the cantina, and had grown closer to the troopers. The troopers had regaled the Navy crew with stories about Jedi, and Ahsoka in particular. Kersos could see now how much Ahsoka meant to everyone on the _Adamant_.

 

“Sir,” Jesse said, voice clipped. He held his helmet under his arm, and the large Republic tattoo across his face did nothing to detract from the man’s air of contained fury and danger. “We have fighter crews on standby, ready to engage with that ship once we catch up, and several boarding crews to get our people back.”

 

“Very good, Captain,” Kersos said, then leaned forward on the railing, looking down at Nav.

 

“Lieutenant,” he said sharply, “status report.”

 

“We don’t…” the young woman began to say, and then her board lit up. “We’ve got them, sir! Plotting a course and running the calculations now.”

 

“Divert all the processing power we can,” he ordered, “and let’s get our people back.”

 

“Yes, sir!” the lieutenant said, _Mera_ , he thought her name was. Mera Gellon. Her hands flew over the controls, and she had the course plotted in record time. She didn’t even check with him before sending the coordinates to the pilots, who promptly punched in the information and the _Adamant_ jumped.

 

Kersos was not a man given to prayer. After his wife had died, he had half lost his faith, and when he had to lower his son into the cold, hard ground of Corellia the last of it had seemed to vanish. He had thrown himself into the Navy, working as hard as he could and climbing the political ladder. But then, he had been assigned to the _Adamant_. He had gotten to know Ahsoka Tano, and the men of the 332 nd. In them he had found something he had once thought lost to him. His faith, and a whole battalion of young men who needed him, as his son had needed him.

 

All unasked for, Erel Kersos had found a reason to believe again, to hope. So now, now he prayed that they would not be too late.

 

Because he did not know if he could stand to bury any more children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a:  
> Shereshoy = lust for life and much more - uniquely Mandalorian word, meaning the enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as surviving to see the next day - hanging onto life and relishing it.


	2. Shadows Creeping Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is largely safe. A bit of creeper on the end.

The droids came in hard and fast. She deflected bolt after bolt, but her arms were getting tired, even as she drew harder and harder on the Force. Rex threw a grenade down the hallway, and the resulting explosion bought them enough time to make a hasty retreat, in an attempt to find a better choke point. Her blades hummed with power, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough, even as they found a mess hall with a single entry point.

 

Rex turned over the tables, forming a barricade, saving her from using more of the Force.

 

They slumped down together, their backs to the knocked over metal table, and thankfully only B1s were behind them. The droids were stupid, and only performed a cursory search of the mess hall. After they passed, she turned to Rex, his face hidden by his helmet, but she knew he was paying attention to everything his HUD was telling him. Estimated enemy compliment, remaining power in his DC-17s, among other information.

 

All she knew was that they couldn’t keep running.

 

“We need off this ship,” she said, letting her sabers power down, and keeping her voice quiet. Droids could be strangely perceptive at the worst of times.

 

“Still in hyperspace. Been told it’s a bad idea to try to take a shuttle out mid-jump,” Rex said dryly, his blaster pistols at the ready, his fingers alongside the triggers. Ahsoka knew that, but then she thought of something, and realized it was dangerous, insane and could likely kill them.

 

Thus, it was about on par with other plans she had been party to.

 

“What if we shut down the hyperspace engines?” she asked, thinking about the best way to get down to the engine room.

 

“We’d be far away from the hangar bay. Don’t know how much they’d throw at us between engineering and our shuttle,” Rex said, his voice thoughtful through the vocoder, in spite of his stated doubts about the idea.

 

“There might still be an escape pod down there,” she pointed out. He started at her, and she could just picture his expression: deceptively blank, but with a mix of admiration and horror in his eyes.

 

“ _Might_ ,” he stressed, and then sighed. “But you’re right, it’s our best chance.”

 

“I just want to know who the hell we’re up against,” she muttered, as they both stood and she reignited her sabers. She vaulted over the turned over table, and she led the way out of the mess hall, cutting apart B1s as they went. Rex was close on her heels, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something sinister was on board.

 

* * *

 

Former Admiral, and now Special Inquisitor, Wilhulf Tarkin received scattered reports from the droids he had repurposed for this task. Tano was cutting them down, but they would overwhelm her eventually. First she had tried to make a stand, and then had disappeared for some moments, causing the B1s to become nervous.

 

Stupid things, the B1 battle droids, but he wanted to save his other surprises for when she was less able to handle them.

 

He had made a study of Jedi, and although they were able to perform great feats of endurance, they were still only mortal. Even better, she had brought that trooper with her: the one from the Citadel mission, the one that had all but committed treason for her. CT-7567.

 

Tarkin smiled.

 

The Jedi had many vulnerabilities.

 

Their drive to protect others was one that was all too easily exploited.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka hugged the wall of the corridor, her sabers at the ready, and Rex at her heels, his blasters in hand. They had done their best to avoid fights, knowing that Rex had limited ammo and grenades, and that she could draw on the Force for only so long before collapsing. So they had slunk and sneaked and they were close to the engine rooms.

 

Which meant that just before the corner, she heard the unmistakable sound of B1s.

 

Not for the first time, she was thankful that the bulkier battle droids were too big for the close quarters of a ship. Though that didn’t rule out droid commandos or droidekas showing up at some point. But that begged the question if, such resources were available, why didn’t their enemy use them?

 

She gave Rex a quick look, and nodded sharply, then used the new hand signals for the 332nd to give him an idea of what they were about to face. He jerked his head down in acknowledgement, and brought his blasters up. In complete silence, she held her sabers at her sides, ready to ignite them at the last moment, and she mouthed a countdown: _one… two…_

 

And the intra-ship comms crackled to life.

 

Both of their heads swiveled around at the noise, and Rex nearly shot the speaker to smithereens, but stopped himself at the last moment. She felt herself go completely still, as though an akul was in the tall grass with her. That uneasy sensation came back, slithering up her spine.

 

“You are an impressive creature, I will admit,” a voice said, and Ahsoka sucked in a harsh breath.

 

 _Tarkin_.

 

She would know that voice, cool and cultured but unable to hide the slime underneath, anywhere. From the moment she had met him during the Citadel mission, she hadn’t trusted him. Because that was her gift, having a sense of people. It was one that had taken a beating in recent months, after Barriss’ betrayal and the Council’s flirtation with abandoning her to Tarkin’s less than tender mercies. But she had clawed it back to herself, finding her own space to stand and trust her own senses again.

 

Now, she had the grim satisfaction of knowing that she had been right from the moment she had set foot on this ship. Something had been very wrong about this, beyond the usual trap set up.

 

“But I believe that we have some unfinished business,” Tarkin continued, and he clearly couldn’t use the internal cameras or audio devices. The ship must actually be somewhat damaged for that to be the case. So he had to track them via their path of destruction.

 

It was a trap for _her_.

 

Her fingers tightened on the hilts of her sabers as she tried to will away the fear that had begun to clench at her stomach. She had learned that the Jedi were not unafraid, as such ( _except Anakin, and oh by the stars, could I use his backup right about now_ , she thought), but rather that they didn’t let it control them.

 

“General,” Rex said, the volume on his vocoder down even past the lower limit, a special setting that was for her montrals alone. “Do we stick to the plan?”

 

She turned to look at him, and she could feel his the knife-edge of his anger at the man somewhere on this ship. But his anger was directed by his iron will to do his duty. To protect her.

 

Decisively, she nodded.

 

They flew around the corner, her sabers a blur of green and yellow, slicing droids apart, and Rex slammed the door controls to open. Quick as anything, she was through, hacking droids apart one after another, as Rex turned and used a new device that one of the men had thought up and sealed the doors shut behind them.

 

It would take a mine to open them now.

 

Then he moved to back her up, firing his blasters at droids coming up behind her with the same precision that had earned him his jaig eyes. Letting Rex deal with the clean up, she began to quickly assess the controls. It was simple enough to drop them out of hyperspace, but she wanted to make sure that the Republic could find them while keeping her out of Tarkin’s hands.

 

She didn’t want to think what would happen if he got his hands on Rex.

 

She was valuable alive.

 

Rex wasn’t.

 

Her hands flew over the controls, and the ship shuddered out of hyperspace, the metal groaning under the stress of the forces on her hull.

 

“Oh,” Tarkin’s voice resounded out of the speaker system again. “You clearly are adept at sabotage. Yes, we do have a great deal to talk about.”

 

Rex summarily kicked open a vent and pointedly looked at her. There was no time to argue. Doing so would only delay them and get them both killed, so she went first, crawling through the vent.

 

It was too small for Rex.

 

He knelt down beside it, putting the grate back.

 

“Get out of here, Ahsoka,” he said tersely, and she wished she could see his face instead of his helmet and the reflection of her eyes in his visor. “Don’t look back. Promise me.”

 

“There’s another way out, through the reactor room. Meet me at the pod bay. And stay alive, that’s an order,” she said, and wasted no time moving through the events. She hoped he wouldn’t notice that she had promised exactly nothing.

 

He grunted by way of reply, and leapt down into the reactor room just as the door exploded inwards. She crawled as quickly as she could, filtering out the unmistakable sound of droidekas rolling into position. In the small, cramped vent, she went forward, and felt her heart racing.

 

This was worse than the brain worms. The brain worms were just that, worms. A clear and dangerous problem, but not personal. This was a trap designed by someone who had studied her, studied the Jedi, and had a grudge aimed directly at her. And it was that which made Tarkin so dangerous. He would never let her go, she realized.

 

But he might not pay attention to Rex if he got her.

 

Her stomach felt like a leaden lump inside of her, but she pressed onward, and eventually reached the right area of the ship. She paused and extended all of her senses, listening for any incoming droids. Hearing the sounds of a ship at drift, she kicked the grate open and landed lightly on her feet.

 

Then she heard the quick snick of boots on the floor, and she saw Rex moving at a dead run as an explosion rocked the corridor behind him. Several droid parts flew outwards in a satisfying arc.

 

She ran too, reaching a four-way intersection to find commando droids on either side of them while more droidekas rolled into the corridor opposite them from some rooms to the side. Rex, ever ready, had already set some droid poppers to rolling, and while the droids were evaluating how to shoot her to bits, they ignored the tale-tell roll of metal on the floor.

 

Grinning, she saw the droid poppers slow to a stop _just_ as they reached the droid’s shields and slipped through.

 

Then several things happened at once.

 

The EMP went off, and the droidekas were so much scrap. The commando droids fired from both sides simultaneously, but she leapt up to the ceiling and most of them got caught in their own crossfire. One, however, managed to wing her, its blaster bolt catching her on her upper arm.

 

Wincing with pain, she dropped to the floor, ready to cut it apart, but Rex was already there with his vibroknife, cutting its head off to save ammo. It fell to the floor with a sharp, metallic clang, resounding in the silence that followed the flurry of blaster fire. Without a word, they turned down the right hand corridor, making their way to the remaining escape pod.

 

She hadn’t told him there was only one. A minor detail she had learned while shutting down the hyperdrive.

 

And she could hear more droidekas rolling behind them.

 

The metal of their shells echoed loudly in her montrals, able to roll faster than they could run. Than Rex could run.

 

Then the escape pod was there, so close.

 

She stopped hard, and her sabers lashed out, slicing the still rolling droids apart. Rex slowed to take up position behind her, but she turned and without a word drew on the Force, pushing him into the escape pod.

 

“ _Ahsoka!_ ” he cried, outrage and horror lacing his voice, hand reaching for her, but she used the Force again, slamming the control panel down, launching the small ship into the vast darkness of space.

 

 _Find him,_ she thought into the Force, thinking of Erel and the 332 nd on the _Adamant_.

 

More droidekas rolled to a stop behind her and her unfurled themselves, their shields coming to life, but the sound that got her attention was the sound of precise footfalls coming down the corridor. Sabers humming, she turned to see Tarkin standing behind the droideka’s shields, a rebreather already in place.

 

She frowned.

 

He smiled, a smug, _knowing_ smile.

 

Her stance shifted, weight balanced as she readied herself to spring into action.

 

But instead, she only staggered forward. One knee hit the metal flooring, sending a jolt of pain up her leg. She looked up, glaring at Tarkin as he strode closer to her, but wisely kept out of her reach as she swept her sabers low to keep him at bay.

 

“You can try to fight it for a little longer, but it will do you no good,” he said, voice muffled underneath the clear mask. “You have been breathing this gas since the lights came on. Jedi endurance is remarkable, and I suppose that clone is lucky he retained his helmet.”

 

The last thing she saw was Tarkin’s face with his thin-lipped smile and cold grey eyes. As she did, she knew a cutting fear. A fear that seared through her, not just for her life, but for her very mind. For her very soul.

 

“But you, Tano,” he purred, “you are mine now.”

 

* * *

 

Kix ran along the surface of the small, rocky moon. The distress beacon had flared into life, the comms officer crying out that a small lifepod from the derelict was calling out to the galaxy at large. Admiral Kersos, a man Kix had come to greatly admire, had diverted course, unwilling to risk missing their people. There was the risk, of course, that the pod had been a diversion as the main ship was nowhere in range, but they were getting life signs from it.

 

Jesse had almost overridden Kix jumping onto the transport down to the surface, but Kix had the best high card in all of the GAR: medical outranked command. And Jesse might be needed on board in case something else happened.

 

One meter, then another, Kix closed in on the pod, but skidded to a halt as three precise blaster bolts shot out, and the door was kicked free of the frame. The men behind him, Uri, a medical corpsman, and Yarin and Lucky, came to a halt.

 

“I think the Commanders’ in there, sir,” Lucky said, keeping well back. The poor barve was the single unluckiest being Kix had ever met. How he was alive was a continual mystery, considering the sheer number of close calls he’d been through. Kix had been taken to keeping him around as an observational study, and in an effort to keep him away from the majority of the fighting.

 

“You’re probably right,” Kix said, and then they were proven correct as Rex hauled himself out of the pod, his now-orange jaig eyes seeming angrier than normal. In fact, Kix swore he could _feel_ the weight of Rex’s righteous fury as the tightly controlled commander leapt down from the escape pod and secured his blaster pistol.

 

It didn’t escape Kix’s notice that the general was not climbing out of the pod. If she had been in there and wounded, Rex would have said something.

 

Kix’s stomach sank down to about his knees.

 

“Sir?” Kix asked softly, reaching out a hand. Rex speared Kix with a glare, even from behind the visor. But Kix had to ask. “Where’s the general, sir?”

 

Rex’s posture went rigid with tension.

 

“General Tano was kidnapped,” he said, voice deceptively even. Kix made a mental note to give Jesse a word of warning to keep the men out of Rex’s way.

 

“What son of a…” Yarin started to ask, and then quailed as Rex turned his attention to the younger man.

 

“Tarkin. It was Wilhuff Tarkin,” Rex said flatly. “We’re going to find them. We’re going to get her back. And then…” Rex trailed off, his fist clenching. “And then, I am going to kill him. In the slowest, most painful way imaginable.”

 

Kix shivered at the declaration, because he had no doubt Rex meant every word of it. And as much as he wanted to get their general back, Kix wasn’t sure if Rex would survive murdering someone who was still a Republic citizen.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka came back to consciousness slowly, her head feeling unbearably heavy. She tried to move, to stretch her arms and legs, but found that she couldn’t. Memory returned like a knife, driving into her brain.

 

Opening her eyes, she saw that she was in a suspension cage, her arms suspended out at her sides, and her legs pointed down and frozen in a beam of energy. She also saw Tarkin sitting comfortably on a chair, regarding her calmly.

 

He gave her a grim but satisfied look as he saw that she was awake, and he rose to stand before her. She was suspended so her eye level was a bit higher than his, but it didn’t seem to bother him that she was looking down at him. But of course, he had all the power here. Her sabers were even there on the far table, so close and yet so far. He followed the flick of her eyes, and then he did smile. It was the single most unpleasant smile she had ever seen.

 

“You grasp your situation quite quickly, Tano,” he said, “which is rather helpful. We can avoid all that tedious begging, because you will once and for all admit your treason to the Republic. Oh yes, you are going to tell me everything that you’ve done, everything that you know.” He was mere centimeters from her now, and she could feel the heat of his body even though his severe clothing. Desperately, she wondered where Anakin was, where Obi-Wan was. If they could find her time, if Rex could get the word to the Council, if he had been found at all.

 

Because she could feel more than Tarkin’s body heat. She could feel all his anger, his desires, his _urges_ just simmering under the surface, and all of them were directed at her.

 

“ _Everything_ ,” he whispered, and his grey eyes glittered with madness.

 

And in her mind, in the Force, she screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tarkin: literally the worst? Well, we'll find out why he's so bug-nutty later.
> 
> Much later. 
> 
> Next, we find out what Anakin's getting up to!
> 
> Oh, for those who aren't sure about watching Star Wars: Rebels. Watch Trials of the Darksaber. Best eps since Twilight of the Apprentice.


	3. Drawn to a Darkened Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is safe. 
> 
> We get a start on what Anakin and Co. are up to.

“Are you sure that Luminara is up to this?” Anakin asked testily. Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully, and Anakin tried not to let his impatience get the better of him. They were in Obi-Wan’s quarters in the Temple, a mug of tea and a mug of caf on the table between them.

 

“I understand your reservations, Anakin, but I have known Luminara for some time, and after all that has happened with her former Padawan, I believe she needs something like this,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin did see the point of it, really. Barriss had gone missing now, escaped, and it was being kept tightly under wraps, because it happened so close to Fives going rogue.

 

Anakin still had trouble believing that. Rex himself had brought Fives and Echo into the 501st, had recommended the man for ARC-trooper.

 

Shaking his head, he came back to the matter at hand. Luminara had been haunting the Temple for weeks, and even he could see that she needed to get out. More, she was careful with troopers, thoughtful and always willing to consider their needs. She was one of the few he worked with that he liked, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye.

 

But she hadn’t been well.

 

Then again, neither had he, really.

 

She was just not well in ways that showed, whereas he had been able to keep it secret. With Obi-Wan’s help. Anakin sighed, thinking about what Padme would say. She would encourage him to trust in his fellow Jedi, especially someone who needed his help, even in this strange round about way.

 

“I see your point, Obi-Wan. I just worry. The last time I handed over the 501st,” he said, thinking back to the faces of his men after Krell’s leadership but before Ahsoka had nearly broken herself helping them through the aftermath. He had been nearly useless for that, save for buying them all a little time in hyperspace.

 

Obi-Wan laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. The other man had been freer with his affection lately. While time with Padme lifted his soul, Obi-Wan’s quiet reassurance seemed to help him stay grounded. It was good, he decided.

 

“I know, Anakin, but considering our skill set, we are the best team to investigate the lower levels for the source of the Force disturbances,” Obi-Wan said, referring to the odd fluctuations in the Force the Council had detected. Again, it came back to Barriss Offee. It was thought that even considering her trauma Healing so many soldiers, that alone was not enough to explain her Fall. When the Council had meditated, they had felt _something_ from below.

 

So he and Obi-Wan had been recalled to investigate, owing to their experience with odd Force fluctuations and other encounters.

 

Well, himself, Obi-Wan and…

 

“I do hope you two have finished your preparations,” Ventress drawled, entering the rooms without so much as asking permission or even knocking and waiting a moment. Anakin felt is jaw clenching and his shoulders tensing. But Obi-Wan merely raised a fair eyebrow and gave the woman a dry look.

 

“Not quite, Asajj, we have to put through the last of the orders to ensure Master Unduli will be in command of our battalions while we are otherwise occupied,” Obi-Wan explained. “The new deployment rules are rather problematic, indeed, the exact opposite of what I had been hoping our friends in the Senate could accomplish for the men.”

 

“You have an army of slaves and you expect the powerful to let them rest and contemplate such things?” Ventress said, voice dripping with acid, and Anakin felt his fist clench.

 

“And it will not stand, Asajj. We have discussed this before, and you will not drag me into it again,” Obi-Wan said, eyes flashing. For a wonder, Ventress backed down, though it was only via a bare nod of her head, acknowledging the point. Anakin blinked, looking between his Master and their, apparently, former enemy. Ventress gave him a smile with daggers in it.

 

“Don’t look so surprised, boy. I am learning the art of _diplomacy_ ,” she said, giving the last word a little flourish. “It’s almost as fun as dueling with sabers.”

 

There were so many questions Anakin had and he was fairly certain he wanted exactly zero of the answers.

 

“Are you sure we have to take her with us?” he asked, trying not to sound plaintive, and he rather thought he had managed it.

 

“The terms of her pardon are rather clear, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, trying to sound conciliatory. If it had been Ahsoka coming with them, well, they were a good team, the three of them, and Obi-Wan had practically been a second Master to her. Having Ventress along, almost as if she had taken Ahsoka’s place, it just felt wrong.

 

Ventress just kept smiling that thin, tight smile at him. Likely because she knew it got under his skin.

 

He tried to ignore it. He largely failed, but he wasn’t about to let _her_ know that. Rising from the chair, he shrugged his shoulders and let his robes settle about him while Obi-Wan did the same.

 

“Shall we, then?” Anakin asked, using his _I’m being polite but I really can’t stand you_ voice. Padme had been helping him with that one lately. Ventress sniffed, her distain clear, but Anakin felt he had won some kind of obscure point.

 

It made him feel a little better about the whole thing.

 

That Obi-Wan’s eyeroll made him deflate slightly was beside the point. Ventress hadn’t seen it, which meant it was meant for him, so that was also kind of a win.

 

“Yes, we should be off,” Obi-Wan conceded as they left his rooms, locking them behind him. “I suppose you already have a vehicle in mind, Anakin?”

 

“I never thought you’d ask, Obi-Wan. I’ll go on ahead to the motorpool and secure us something good,” Anakin said brightly, and strode ahead, doing his best not to have a little jaunt in his step. He was fairly aware of what Obi-Wan had just done, Padme’s help again in understanding how people worked other people, but he didn’t mind. With Obi-Wan, he knew it came from a good place.

 

And besides, he did have his eye on a new speeder that had just come in.

 

Obi-Wan watched Anakin walk on ahead while he dawdled slightly. Asajj waited patiently as they made their slow way through the Temple. She had learned that Obi-Wan rarely did anything for a single reason. Certainly he found life more peaceful when she and the boy weren’t arguing, and he liked to indulge the boy now and again as well, she noted.

 

There was more to this, however. There always was.

 

“Your commander is in the Temple, in one of those briefing rooms,” she told him. She knew the clones had names. She even knew their names. She simply didn’t see why they had to know that.

 

“Thank you, Asajj,” he said softly, and they took a small detour, where they stopped at another door. Obi-Wan knocked on the door, and Luminara Unduli opened it. Asajj remembered the woman as tough, smart, and annoyingly good in a fight. This was not the same woman.

 

Some part of her, the old part, sneered at the weakness that this woman now showed in her shadowed eyes and unhealthy pallor. But another part, one that was still new and strange, felt something else. Not quite sympathy, but at least a lack of outright hostility.

 

“Obi-Wan,” Unduli said, voice quiet, but she gave Kenobi a knowing kind of smile. “You need not escort me to your battalion. I would not leave your men to be given into uncertain hands, yours or Anakin’s.”

 

“You misunderstand me, Luminara,” Kenobi said breezily, “I wanted to make sure you were properly introduced to Cody. I think you’ll get on well, but he’s a somewhat goal oriented soldier. If left to his own devices, he would avoid such things.”

 

Unduli gave Kenobi a long, evaluative look, and apparently decided to believe him. Then the woman cast her eyes over to Ventress and raised a single eyebrow, but otherwise her expression remained neutral.

 

“I see he is still negotiating every last thing, yes?” Unduli asked, and Ventress realized the woman was speaking to her. Even though she had tried to kill the Jedi. And in spite of herself, Ventress smiled.

 

“No one has the heart to tell him it’s an annoying habit,” Ventress drawled, turning her sharp gaze to Kenobi. He huffed, looking affronted, but Ventress would bet anything that he was enjoying this.

 

The strange man that he was.

 

Then Luminara Unduli smiled, and Ventress knew that this was the real purpose of their task. And she had helped. Without being prompted. By being herself.

 

A strange, _clever_ man.

 

“Very well, let us go meet your Commander Cody,” Unduli said.

 

* * *

 

Cody came to attention as his general and General Unduli entered the small reception room. Ventress entered just behind the Jedi pair, and even though it had only been a short amount of time, Cody had come to expect the sight of the woman around. Like she had almost become a part of the 212th.

 

Almost.

 

But he knew what his general expected of him, and he turned to General Unduli. The last he had seen her, she had been everything he had been trained to think a Jedi should be: serene, brilliant, powerful, with calm blue eyes that saw right through a man. Now, her eyes held a deep sorrow. Although she tried to hide it, to be the Jedi she had been, Cody had been there for too many haunted men to miss the signs.

 

“General Unduli,” he said, dipping his head instead of saluting as a respectful acknowledgement to her presence.

 

“Commander Cody,” she answered, “I believe we will work well together.” And she ventured a brief twitch of her lips. He answered in kind.

 

“If your plans are actually plans,” he said, keeping his soldierly tone intact. Kenobi huffed.

 

“Just _what_ are you implying here Cody?” his general asked, and even though Ventress rolled her eyes, General Unduli actually smiled. It was small and gone all to quickly, but it was there. This was certainly the first time he was working to help a _Jedi_ get back to field duty, but he felt he could accomplish the task, if she was as well composed as she appeared.

 

“Well, now that the introductions are concluded, I shall leave you two to go over battle plans and strategies without me. Clearly, I am unsuited to such tasks,” Kenobi drawled, and Cody felt himself grin at his general’s sarcasm. The other man bowed slightly to General Unduli, and they said their goodbyes, but as Cody watched his general leave, with only Ventress at his shoulder, something in Cody’s heart bypassed his brain and grabbed a hold of his mouth.

 

“Sir, watch your back down there,” he said, which earned him a glare from Ventress. Kenobi held up his hand to forestall the woman’s scathing tongue, and turned back to his commander.

 

“I mean,” Cody tried to recover. “You should all watch your backs. It’s dangerous in the lower levels, no one really knows…”

 

“I will be careful, Cody,” Kenobi said with a slight smile, and warm voice. “I promise.”

 

“Sir,” Cody returned, trying to retreat into himself, and did his best not to think about the glance General Unduli and Ventress exchanged as though he wasn’t there. Luckily, Kenobi didn’t notice it as he had already turned to leave.

 

“Now, tell me about the men of the 212th, if you would be as so kind, Commander,” Unduli said, and Cody dragged his attention back to her, and was glad his general had gotten her to lead them.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan focused on his breathing as Anakin drove the speeder through Coruscant traffic. Although, perhaps _drove_ is too strong a word. That would imply some measure of attention given to any of the laws, or at least a measure of lip service given to general safety. Or physics.

 

It didn’t help that Asajj was laughing with delight and encouraging Anakin to greater recklessness. Obi-Wan tried to focus, instead, on the pleasing fact that the two of them were nominally getting along.

 

However, once they finally descended below the last level of traffic, Anakin evened out and slowed down. Likely, it was only fun risking life and limb when there was a challenge, like avoiding other speeders. Or, perhaps the increased caution was because they could all feel the darkness strongly, now that the sheer amount of life above no longer muddled their Force senses.

 

The light from above was fast disappearing, almost like diving beneath the oceans on Kamino. While the light was still there, too much stood between them for it to matter. Obi-Wan felt his demeanor go grim, and Anakin cast him a sideways glance. He raised a hand to his beard, thoughtful as he tried to find their way through the gloom and darkness in the Force itself while they hovered in place.

 

But Asajj solved the dilemma for him. She was, after all, more closely attuned to the darkside than himself or Anakin, even considering Anakin’s stumbles. Leaning forward from the backseat, she glared into the shadows in front of them.

 

“Only a kilometer forward, and then straight down,” she said, voice for once lacking the biting quality that made her so abrasive to others.

 

“That would put it right underneath the Temple,” Anakin said softly, following Asajj’s gaze. They were silent for a moment, and Obi-Wan could sense the trepidation from Anakin. It had been some time since they had been in each other’s company so much, but Obi-Wan knew that Anakin, for once, was aware of his limits. Aware that he had certain tendencies that might complicate their mission. Obi-Wan had not informed the Council about this, if only to protect Anakin from their scrutiny, but now he wondered if he should have come alone.

 

“Then we should not waste any more time,” Obi-Wan said, but gently. Anakin tensed, his hands gripping the steering mechanism tightly.

 

Then he breathed out.

 

“Right,” he said, and followed Asajj’s directions, ahead and down. However, as they closed in on their destination, it became rather obvious rather quickly where they were headed.

 

The structure was clearly old, settled on the actual surface of Coruscant, and massive. Solid and imposing, the whole area radiated a baleful malevolence that did not snarl or snap like a scared animal, but waited. Waited and watched and knew, _knew_ that he would Fall eventually, would lose his footing and let anger and hate flow through him…

 

“Snap out of it, both of you!” Asajj snapped, her sharp nails digging into his shoulder, and he saw her gripping Anakin’s shoulder tightly as well. His former Padawan shook his head, trying to clear it from the malicious influence of the place. Obi-Wan breathed out slowly and reached out the Force, and he found his connection oddly and disturbingly attenuated, as though he were only tethered to the light by a thin and insubstantial cord.

 

He gave Asajj a grateful look and a shallow nod, as Anakin laughed nervously and ran a hand through his hair.

 

“… Thank you… Ventress,” Anakin said haltingly, and Asajj said nothing, but nodded sharply.

 

“Take us down, if you would, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, and the younger man set them down lightly on the ground, though his face was grim. Whatever Obi-Wan had experienced, he knew Anakin had possibly experienced something much worse. As they touched down, they all leapt out of the vehicle, and stared up at the black and red monstrosity before them, unable to keep all their fears at bay.

 

Because they had found a Sith Temple in the heart of the Republic, and they were about to willingly walk into it.

 

* * *

 

And in Anakin’s quarters, a set of rooms that now belong to him alone, which meant the various parts of droids and engines had fully consumed the living space, his datapadd flashed to life. The message that had just arrived was short and clipped, as usual from the former captain of the 501st, and it only had one line.

 

 _Ahsoka’s been taken. She needs you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to certain panels and info on the web, yup! Anakin, Obi-Wan and Ventress are going into the Sith Temple Filoni planned to tackle in the show before it got cancelled. But with my own take on things, cause AU!


	4. Without the Stars to Guide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is safe.
> 
> Posted early for "Just another anon" who is off to boot. Didn't want you to miss the update. Take care of yourself, and stay safe! <3

“This is not possible,” Aayla said, her eyes hard and focused squarely on Kit’s face. A face she had grown rather fond of, more than fond if she were honest, and looked for a trace, any hint that he was teasing, though this would be a dark and sick kind of teasing, most unlike him.

 

He was not, unfortunately, teasing in the slightest.

 

Spreading his hands, as if signifying his helplessness in the face of the truth, Kit hung his head. They sat across from each other in her small, GAR-regulation shelter, though the inside was no longer regulation grey. Between her own art objects and the men’s love of painting any flat surface they were allowed near, the interior was warm and inviting and riotously colorful. She sat on her narrow camp cot while he sat on the short camp chair, a small light giving a yellow cast to everything.

 

“I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I cannot,” he said sorrowfully. “Will you tell your Padawan?”

 

“You said Zonder knows?” she asked, tilting her head to the side as her quick mind ran over the information once again.

 

“Yes, it was unavoidable, though I trust his discretion,” Kit said, and Aayla let a small grin curve the corner of her lips to see him so proud, so fond of the young Selonian already. Kit, who had been hurt so deeply by his former Padawan.

 

“Ekria could handle this information, I believe.” Then she paused and looked Kit square on. “Bly must know. I have to…”

 

“Bly, yes, I agree should know, but not the whole battalion,” Kit said his normally relaxed speech sharp. Aayla narrowed her eyes, ready for a fight, but Kit held out his hands with his palms up, and she saw a deep sadness in his large black eyes. She let go of her anger and reached back, letting her hands touch his.

 

“There is no way to handle the problem without surgery as yet, and as soon as the men learn enough about it, it seems the problem auto-activates, Aayla. It has several fail-safes. Even if we somehow could disguise whole battalions being operated upon, it is not a simultaneous solution. I believe that is our only real hope,” he said.

 

“They were, then, really made to be a knife at our throats,” Aayla said, the reality of it all choking her. Withdrawing her hands, she gripped the edge of her cot tightly. “But they are so much more than that, Kit. So much more.”

 

“I agree,” Kit said, though not warily as others might have. He knew of her past difficulties. She had told him herself, in one of their many ambling conversations. But he had never judged her, never told her that she should have known better. Kit, being Kit, had simply accepted her as she was and as she had been.

 

He accepted much about her that few others would.

 

“The _shabuir_ that orchestrated this, what are our options there?” she asked, sitting straight and forcing herself to breathe out, to let her emotions out into the Force. It was difficult.

 

“Nothing for now. Not while we are under this threat. Perhaps, if there were some Senators we could trust without question, it might be different, but even Amidala and Organa could be influenced,” Kit said, and Aayla snorted. Politics. Certainly they had been caught neatly at their weakest point, for although the Jedi were meant to be peacekeepers and diplomats, few of their number excelled in the Senate.

 

“What about Adi? She could help,” Aayla suggested, and Kit nodded.

 

“I agree, but I thought it necessary to inform those in the field as soon as possible. I could not trust comm channels,” Kit said, and she agreed with that assessment. There was no knowing how deep the hooks were in. How close the knife was poised.

 

“Well,” she said, looking away. “I’ll bring Bly in. We’ll take the damned thing out, and then we’ll talk to him. I’ll speak to Ekria myself, later, during our usual meditation practice.” Kit dipped his head to her, and stood, having only to bend slightly under the low ceiling. Aayla poked her head out and called in her Commander, a man she had come know very well, a man whom she had trusted with her life and the life of her Padawan. A man she had come respect and care for, likely more than was acceptable than for a Jedi, but that did not stop the feelings from being there.

 

Bly entered her tent, his helmet under his arm, and he looked from her to Kit, a question in his eyes, though his expression remained neutral. She knew Bly tried to stay out of the way when Kit was around, tried to give them space, a gesture for which she was deeply grateful.

 

It made what she was about to do all the more difficult.

 

“I’m sorry, Bly,” she said, and with a gentle push of the Force, she sent him to sleep. He slumped, falling into Kit’s arms, and the Nautolan laid the trooper down gently on her cot. With quick, apparently practiced movements, Kit operated on her Commander. Together, they Healed his wound, and she brought him around.

 

Bly blinked up at them both, frowning.

 

“Generals,” he said tersely, and then realized he was lying on _her_ cot. He blinked, and then sat up faster than he should have, because he winced, clutching at his head. Aayla knelt beside him, her hand on his leg, looking up into his dark eyes. Bly’s shifted his gaze to Kit then back to her, wary and watchful.

 

“There is much to tell you, Bly, and you will care for none of it,” she said. He snorted with dark amusement, sliding out from under her hand and standing up, gathering his helmet to him.

 

“How is that different from normal, General?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Then she told him, and Kit filled in what she missed. Bly simply stood at attention and listened, taking in the information. About the chips, about the apparent purpose of them, about why he had to be rendered unconscious quickly, and why there was damn near nothing they could do about it all right now.

 

Bly didn’t so much as frown. He did, however, sigh when they finished.

 

“I suppose that makes us make a lot more sense, sirs,” he said. “I should go, I suppose. Make some adjustments to the roster. I don’t think you’ll want Ekria, uh, the Commander out by herself. Though, I wish I’d be able to cover you both, but I know what you’ll say to that idea,” he started to rattle off. Aayla watched with an almost amazed kind of disbelief as Bly accepted this terrible fact about the creation of himself and his brothers.

 

But then, troopers were engineered and conditioned to quickly adapt to changing situations.

 

“Bly,” she said softly, pulling his attention back to her with a touch on his shoulder. Again, he looked to Kit and then back to her, and she felt not just a worry about her, but something almost like a plea. She withdrew her hand, and let her confusion show on her face.

 

“You can speak freely here, Bly,” she told him, and followed the flick of his eyes to Kit, who cocked his head and smiled. “Kit would not… Kit is a dear friend.”

 

“I know,” he stated blandly, and she saw that behind his avoidance of her during Kit’s visits was not merely a polite deference to privacy. She saw the choices before her, as plain as the stars above. Worse, she doubted she could walk the middle path with Bly as she did with Kit.

 

She looked from one to the other. Kit, a dear friend for many years, and someone she had recently found a connection with. A connection physical and spiritual, one that she had found comfort in, even when they were separated. Then there was Bly. At first so professional, they had bonded over their mutual dislike of shoddy, sloppy campaigns, and somewhere along the way he had become a fixture in her life, a pillar in her heart.

 

And yet, before she could respond, Kit spoke.

 

“One may have more than a single dear friend, Commander. Hearts are not always so constrained,” Kit said, and smiled as Bly’s head shot up and he looked at Kit with a wide, wild eyed expression. Aayla couldn’t help but laugh, a low, genuinely pleased laugh in spite of the danger and horror around them.

 

“But I…” Bly said, and then shook his head, as if trying to clear it. He stood, his shoulders square, and he nodded. “I should probably go, then, Generals. And…”

 

“We will speak more on this, Bly,” she said, and before he could leave, she touched her forehead to his, like a Mando. She could feel him relax, ever so slightly, into her, and heard the long exhale of his breath. Then they pulled away, and he dipped his head to Kit and then to her before exiting the tent.

 

Kit stepped up behind her, and his tentacles twinning about her lekku in a rare show of physical affection between them. She leaned back into him, letting her lekku express her gratitude for his understanding, his generosity of heart.

 

“No, Aayla,” he said quietly, “it is I who must thank you.” She withdrew from his embrace, and watched him leave. As she did, she hoped the three of them could navigate these waters, the waters between connection and attachment and love and possession. Because she was starting to think that perhaps, in spite of the danger around them, the dire threat, it might after all be the connections they had with one another that would save them.  

 

* * *

 

Outside of Aayla’s tent, Kit Fisto paused seeing that Commander Bly was loitering nearby. Kit dipped his head, and wished that the troopers could sense his pheromones, could have the insight that Kit constantly had, even without the ability to sense other’s emotions through the Force. In spite of that, however, Bly was a perceptive man.

 

He would have to be, to have learned lekku language without formal training, if Kit was right about why the man kept glancing at Aayla’s lekku.

 

“Can’t say I understand, sir,” Bly began, voice pitched low.

 

“Kit,” the Nautolan corrected gently. Bly gave him a long, thoughtful look, but then smiled. Just a quick twitch at the corners of his mouth.

 

“Kit,” Bly echoed, and seemed to reach a conclusion. “Then I won’t hold you up. Zonder’s curled around Ekria, if you were wondering where he’d gotten himself to. Bit cold for her here.” Kit dipped his head in thanks and went to collect his Padawan, and he could almost feel Bly’s evaluative gaze on his back.

 

And indeed, Kit found his Padawan curled around Ekria, helping to keep his friend warm. He smiled to see it, two young people, dear and innocent as friends, and he hoped that all he and his friends did, all they were about to undertake, would let these young ones live in a better galaxy one day.

 

A galaxy of peace, where they could help others achieve justice, where they could bring guidance and knowledge and compassion to those who had none. A galaxy where their hearts could be free.

 

* * *

 

“You have a great affinity for places, my Padawan,” Plo said as he sat across from the young woman on the floor, a low table between them. He had not taken on a Padawan in some time. Certainly he had helped train others, but he had largely been content with his role as a Master on the Council and a Finder for some time before the war began. But then the war had begun, and Plo had seen too much lost for the want of training.

 

“Thank you, Master Plo,” she said, preening only slightly. He smiled, and although he had to continually ware the mask that prevented the toxic oxygen from reaching him, he thought that by now Tai knew when he was smiling and when he was not.

 

Tai certainly had been a challenge. She was bright, inquisitive, and sometimes painfully forthright. In some ways she was much like one of his dearest foundlings, but Tai had a brashness that was all her own. For all of that, he hoped she would remain a challenge, so that he could learn as much as she did from their time together.

 

Ahsoka, he thought, deserved a good deal of credit for recommending this young human to him.

 

“However, you have yet to learn how to fully take advantage of your surroundings, to alter the environment suit you when you cannot find the proper ground, or to improve your own position even further,” he said. She looked at him thoughtfully, but nodded, conceding the point.

 

“I will admit, my telekinesis and environmental manipulation aren’t the best,” she told him, and while he knew this to be the case, it was something of a milestone for Tai to admit that was not good at a particular skill. He smiled wider, letting his approval flow through the bond they had forged in only a short time, and she sat up a little straighter.

 

“I once struggled as well, especially as I had to learn to manipulate objects without a perfect clarity of vision,” he said, tapping the lenses he wore. “However, once I learned the principles behind movement and motion, I realized I did not need to see to change things, as long as I could see it within my mind.”

 

“So… you’re telling me I need to brush up on my physics,” she said, voice laced with entertainingly typical teenage ennui. He did his best to fight another smile, nodding instead.

 

“It was most useful,” he told her, and she sighed.

 

“Let me guess, you already have work for me ready to do?” she asked, holding out her hand, and this time he did smile as he handed her the datapadd he had already prepared.

 

“Your ability to predict events, Tai, is commendable,” he joked, and she laughed even though he could tell she was disappointed. Tai had progressed well in her saber combat and in natural her sensitivity to places, and very much enjoyed practicing what she was already good at. But, to be the Jedi he knew she could be, she had to be willing to see her own weaknesses and improve upon them.

 

“Thank you, Master,” she said, without a trace of detectable irony. He laughed as she stood, bowed, and sat at her own desk in their shared living area. As she worked, he contemplated how she had enriched his life already, in so short a time. And, now he had a choice to make: to tell her what Kit had disclosed to him, or to not.

 

Out of nowhere, Kit had arrived, ostensibly for a moment of respite on a larger ship for himself and his Selonian Padawan. In truth, Kit had told Plo about the reality of events that taken place on Coruscant, how his dear little ‘Soka was once again at the center of dark events that threatened the very foundations of the Order and the Republic.

 

And Plo Koon’s heart broke for the men, for the sons of his heart, at such a fundamental perversion of their good natures.

 

Telling Wolffe had been no less arduous, as they had decided that at the very least the Commanders needed to know. Strangely, however, Asajj Ventress had given his Commander a gift, in a manner of speaking. The damage she inflicted upon him had destroyed his chip. It was so much slag.

 

Wolffe, however, had a small rage at the inability to keep an eye on both the Jedi attached to the 104th, never mind that Plo had insisted that the entire Wolfpack undergo the procedure.

 

What that left him with, however, was a quandary: to inform Tai or not. He thought of her resolve, her skill, and her good heart, balanced against what little innocence she had left. It was not, perhaps, the most tactically sound reason to withhold such information, but for just a little bit longer, Plo Koon wished for his Padawan to believe that justice still existed in the galaxy.

 

Because he no longer could.

 

* * *

 

Bly woke up quickly as his datapadd chimed. It was a specific sound, the one that he and his brothers in command had worked out a year ago, and it meant one thing: _Jedi down, need help._

 

Picking up the padd, he frowned, seeing that it was Rex pinging him directly. Something had to be very, very wrong for Rex to admit to needing help. Bly accepted the call, and a grainy video appeared on the screen. Rex was there, his face a careful mask of soldierly calm, though Bly had some fair idea of what was running through the man’s head, which was exactly what would run through Bly’s head if Aayla had been hurt and he couldn’t handle it on his own.

 

“Bly, need your General and Commander here yesterday,” Rex said without preamble. “Girl’s a slicer, if I recall correctly, and we’re going to need some Jedi help on this one.”

 

“Mind telling me what happened, Rex?” Bly asked, already getting up, gathering his helmet, and heading straight to Aayla’s tent, which she now often shared with Ekria.

 

“General Tano, she’s been taken. Not like other times she’s been in scrapes either. This is… personal,” Rex said, cautiously. There was more going on than Rex was saying, that was for sure, and Bly thought he could see his brother’s jaw clench dangerously.

 

They were, generally, controlled men, those of them in command. But whatever was going on had stretched Rex’s control to the limits.

 

“You want the whole battalion there, _vod_?” Bly asked, picking his way through the camp, keeping his voice down. Luckily, troopers could sleep through almost anything if they put their minds to it, and trusted their brothers on watch to keep them safe.

 

“Thought that would be you general’s call,” Rex said dryly.

 

“She listens to my recommendations,” he said, and Rex nodded.

 

“Whatever you can get us, Bly. You lot are the closest, though I’ve got another option out there,” Rex said, still playing everything close to the chest. It all made Bly more than a little twitchy.

 

“We’ll get to you soon, Rex,” Bly promised. “Send through everything you need.”

 

“I will. And, thank you, _vod_ ,” Rex said evenly, but Bly could see the flicker of abject relief in the other man’s eyes.

 

“You’d do the same for me,” Bly responded, and then the channel cut out just as he reached Aayla’s tent. He didn’t waste any time entering uninvited. Once, that would have been unthinkable, and had this not been a dire emergency, he might have felt self-conscious so soon after that odd… discussion he had been party to with his general and Kit Fisto.

 

But a brother needed him, and he had little time to waste on his own emotional state.

 

Aayla woke quickly, sitting up on her cot, Ekria woke more slowly from her own pallet on the ground.

 

“Bly? What is going on?” Aayla asked, a brief moment of confusion giving way to a sharp, decisive demeanor.

 

“It’s the 332nd, General Tano has been taken. Commander Rex contacted me directly. They need back up. You and Ekria for sure,” Bly said, inclining his head in the young woman’s direction. To the Padawan’s credit, she shot up and started to gather her things together, a determined expression on her face. It made Bly proud that they had landed a Padawan such as her, and that he had some small hand in helping her learn and grow.

 

“What about the rest of the battalion? We know it’s a risk now, but surely we have some time,” she said, referring obliquely to the terrible knowledge they now carried with them.

 

“Whatever we could spare, but the new deployment rules make things difficult. I could probably keep things under wraps for a while,” Bly offered. It would be tricky, but he could probably manage it. “Or General Fisto could return and take command.”

 

Aayla frowned, suddenly connecting the new deployment rules to the fact of the chips. It certainly tied the Jedi to their battalions more than ever before, and gave more credence to the whole vile plot.

 

“We can’t just leave Ahsoka and the 332nd without help,” Ekria said, and Aayla turned to her Padawan and gave her a tight, grim smile.

 

“Your care does you credit, Ekira, but I was not considering refusing the request,” Aayla said, her tone soft but with a core of durasteel. Then she turned back to Bly. “It just so happens I know a member of the Jedi Council, and I think we are about to get new orders.”

 

Her smile was sharp and fierce, and Bly saw Ekria wear an almost identical grin. He felt a brief moment of pity for whoever had taken General Tano. But only for a moment, because he was fairly certain whoever had done this deserved everything they had coming to them.

 

* * *

 

Wolffe hadn’t been asleep. He had never slept much to begin with, not like some of his brothers who could sleep the day away if given half the chance. Then, ever since General Koon had told him about the chips, well, Wolffe had even less reason to sleep. Especially considering the General was counting on him and the Wolfpack to keep Tai safe.

 

All of them had been de-chipped in a single go, and Wolffe hated the fact that he couldn’t help more of his brothers, but he knew the reasons. Once again, he had to trust in his general. At least he had a good general, so that made things slightly easier.

 

But this all meant that when Rex commed him on the commander-only channel, Wolffe picked it up right away. His brother, younger by maybe a few months but still younger, hadn’t looked all that great, and Wolffe knew that now was not the best time to insist on collecting on their five-credit bet.

 

That, and he liked General Tano.

 

Wolffe didn’t like that many people. But he liked her. It helped that General Koon was so fond of her. He figured if Koon liked someone, he should give them half a chance. Then when she had come to rescue them, along with Skywalker. It raised his opinion of them both, that stunt.

 

So, he reported things to General Koon, and the damned Jedi, _his_ _jetti_ , had gone alone!

 

Wolffe had just stood there as Koon put a fatherly hand on his shoulder, because Wolffe had figured out by now that ‘son’ wasn’t just a turn of phrase to the Kel Dor Master, and had kriffing _guilted_ him into staying. Because the 327 th Star Corps had already diverted their entire battalion to assist, the 104th had to stay put. Of course, if Koon left, that meant Tai had to stay, to prevent the deployment rules from coming into effect. And if Tai was grounded, so was Wolffe.

 

“I don’t like it either,” he said to the tiny girl, who glared up at him as though it were his fault she was being left behind. “But we have our orders.”

 

She pursed her lips and stared into the middle distance, and Wolffe tensed. That was her thoughtful look. Her thoughtful look typically preceded ideas that often involved him, explosions, and a fair amount of running and screaming. Typically it was droids screaming, so that was alright, but still.

 

“What, exactly, did Master Plo say to us?” she asked, eyes narrowed. Wolffe jogged his memory and tried to recall what General Koon had said, his exact phrasing.

 

“He said that were to stay with the 104th, that the Wolfpack was to form your personal squad, and that we were to ensure that this sector remained safe,” Wolffe said. Tai looked at him for a long moment.

 

“That’s it? That’s all he said?” she pressed.

 

“Yes! That’s all he said, and that’s enough,” Wolffe growled.

 

Tai smiled.

 

“Well, if the Wolfpack is supposed to watch out for me, and I’m not allowed to leave the 104th behind, and if this sector is all nice and quiet like it is right now…” she trailed off and smiled up at him.

 

Wolffe was a man who liked order. Who liked things to make sense. Black and white. Us and them. But after General Koon had told him about those damned chips, about how he and his brothers had been set up from the word go, Wolffe was starting to see more shades of grey than he was comfortable with.

 

This, however, was a shade of grey he could get behind.

 

He smiled back at her, an echo of his namesake.

 

“It would be irresponsible of me to let you go alone, Commander,” he said, his grin belying his attempt to be nonchalant.

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t _dream_ of causing more trouble for you, Commander. I guess you all better come along, just to be on the safe side,” Tai said, dark eyes glittering with snark. Wolffe snorted in amusement, breaking the illusion somewhat, but he had to admit that the girl’s devious mind had some uses.

 

“I’ll believe that when I see it, but for now, lets get under way and go back up our general,” he said, and she rolled her eyes at him.

 

“Just because you can’t keep up with me, doesn’t mean I’m trouble,” she countered. Wolffe was about to retort when she departed with a quick: “Off to inform our Admiral!”

 

And he realized she had gotten in the last word.

 

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a:  
> Shabuir = most extreme form of jerk


	5. Shattered and Shorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NOT safe. Physical torture, sexual creepiness, and other flavors of ick.
> 
> Email me at zinjadu.fanfic@gmail.com if you want to cut out but know what happened in broad brush strokes. 
> 
> Stay safe out there, yes? <3

Ahsoka lost track of time rather quickly. Tarkin held her in a darkened, though not completely dark, room, but there was no natural light. Combined with not knowing how long she had been unconscious for or if they had travelled any further from when Rex had escaped, she had lost all sense of time.

 

Things simply happened. Or did not.

 

Oddly, very little happened.

 

After Tarkin’s initial threat, he had largely left her alone. She had spent some time contemplating his threat, and what she had sensed of him through the Force, and wondered what his game was. Tarkin was not stupid, and she wondered if this was a test of patience.

 

Time blurred. She felt hunger pangs, but drew on her connection to the Force, letting it fill and sustain her body.

 

It was a dangerous technique, but one that Obi-Wan had taught her early on. Just in case. She could recall his dire warnings, his injunction never to use it unless in dire need. Thinking of the man, she sank further into the Force, and tried to reach out.

 

To some degree, she wished she had not, because wherever she was, it was a place of darkness. Deep darkness, old and powerful and uncaring about her or anything else. There was life here, she could tell, sentient life and animal life, but all of it felt oily to her senses, slick and wrong.

 

Even then, she pushed through and focused on the bond she shared with Anakin, the bond neither of them had severed. She had relied on it since she was fourteen, and now, just shy of her seventeenth year, she called along it. But Anakin was so far away, so distant, and, disturbingly, surrounded by a darkness of his own. She doubted anything got through, and she tried again.

 

Again, no glimmer of response.

 

However, just because she couldn’t get Anakin right away, didn’t mean all was lost. She had been in tight spots before and rescued herself. And she still had the Force itself.

 

Breathing in and out, slow and even, she sank further into the Force.

 

It was the one place Tarkin could not touch her.

 

* * *

 

Anakin craned his neck looking up at the ziggurat, a monument to basalt and creepy red glowing. He tried to find his center of balance, the too recently and very hard won ability to moderate himself while under stress. It was fragile, he knew, but he had faith that Obi-Wan would help keep him on course.

 

Because he saw now that’s all Obi-Wan had ever tried to do, in his own very Jedi way. Now they had a better understanding of each other, Anakin felt like he really could do this. He really could confront the darkness that was inside and out without himself being a party to it.

 

For all of that, however, he was still left with something of a quandary.

 

“So, how do we get in?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Obi-Wan and Ventress. He hadn’t wanted her along, at first, but she had already proven herself useful, keeping them from being overwhelmed by the darkness emanating from this place.

 

Obi-Wan stroked his beard and simply looked to Ventress. She looked up at the structure and quirked an eyebrow. Disdainfully. But then, to Anakin, Ventress did almost everything disdainfully.

 

“Were we full Sith, we could possibly access it directly from the top, where any objects of power might be held. Although,” she paused and tilted her head thoughtfully, “I do recall that often Sith would be buried with their particular treasures, and that would be in the lower levels, near the center.”

 

“We could split up and try to go low and high,” Anakin suggested, hoping that he could get some time with Obi-Wan, but he knew it was a futile ask.

 

“No, I appreciate the thought to save us time, Anakin,” his former master said, “but I would rather not divide our forces when facing the unknown.”

 

“Of course,” Anakin acceded, and he had to admit it made sense and that Obi-Wan handled it well. But just because Ventress was useful for this investigation, didn’t mean he liked it.

 

“If that’s the case, then we use the front doors,” she said, and stepped forward, and Anakin could feel her drawing on her rage, a righteous fury that lived deep inside of her, and she channeled it outwards, not pushing on the doors, but _feeding_ it into the stone. He could feel her straining, feel her not giving the stone enough. It wanted more, it always wanted more. Anakin turned to face Obi-Wan, who frowned at Ventress and then gave Anakin the barest fraction of a nod.

 

Anakin stepped forward, and as he did, he felt a surge of reassurance, of care, along the bond they had never broken. Never broken and reinforced of late. It felt like trust. It felt like faith.

 

And Anakin drew on his own anger, and let it out.

 

He managed not to completely cut loose, but directed his anger, his bottomless anger at so many things. _Injustice, slavery, the death of his men, the greed of the Senate, the cruelty of the Separatists, having to hide his love for Padme…_

 

He fed it out of himself and into the stone. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ventress’ expression, her mild shock, and tinge of fear, to know such things were in him. He felt it then too, fear for what he held in his heart, but there was Obi-Wan again, reminding him that he was not lost, not without goodness, feeding him images and feelings from times gone by. Times when things had been brighter and freer and so had he.

 

Balanced against his own anger, Anakin stood, and the doors opened.

 

Together, he and Ventress lowered their hands, letting their anger fall away. She nodded to him, slow and deliberate, without any trace of mockery. He returned the gesture. Then Obi-Wan clapped them both on the shoulder and gave them a tight grin.

 

“Well done, the both of you,” he said. “Shall we?”

 

“You… take the lead, Master,” Anakin said, reverting to the old form of address. He really did want Obi-Wan in the lead on this one. Ventress might have the knowledge, and he could do the heavy lifting, but Obi-Wan had the wisdom. It would take all the wisdom they had to deal with this place, he knew.

 

“Very well, as you wish, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, and strode forward, looking and feeling completely unconcerned that they were entering and ancient Sith shrine of untold power. Ventress followed Obi-Wan, and Anakin took up the rear, and he tried to focus on maintaining his awareness in the face of the sheer grandeur of the place.

 

They ignited their blades, his and Obi-Wan’s a vibrant blue, whereas Ventress still had her red dual blades. But they had enough light to see pillars reaching up into the darkness, the bases of statues and a few fallen stone faces. They crossed the large, grand hallway with no incident, and came to a smaller door. This one already opened, the doors hanging off the frame. The ceiling was still high, but lower than the one they currently stood under, and the passage was only wide enough for four men abreast, instead of being able to host a battalion.  

 

Again, without any hesitation, Obi-Wan pressed ahead, and Anakin and Ventress followed.

 

What they did not see, what they could not have seen or sensed in the middle of such a great wellspring of the darkside, was a flash of movement, a glow of eyes like the heart of a dying star, and a hunger that had not been fed for over a thousand years.

 

* * *

 

The door opened. There was only one door, and through it stepped Tarkin. He was still immaculately groomed, though no longer wearing the Republic Navy uniform. Although he still wore something like a uniform, it was just one she had never seen before. Black, with grey piping, and a pin on his collar in the shape of a humanoid eye.

 

She didn’t like the eye, she decided.

 

Still, she felt strong in spite of the lack of food, though it had not been long enough for her to be taxing her Force reserves just yet. It helped that she did little else besides hang suspended in the energy beams. But she could tell what Tarkin wanted. He wanted reactions. He wanted her fear. So she refused to give it to him.

 

“Good of you to join me. Don’t mind the décor, I’m just not sure how to accessorize a prison cell,” she said, making her voice sound as chipper as possible. He frowned at that, and she smiled.

 

“Interesting,” he commented, his grey eyes looking her up and down, and she fought a shiver at his scrutiny. “You seem to think you still have a measure of control.”

 

He waited for her to say something, his hands clasped behind his back. She knew that was her cue to make a little speech, denounce his intent to get information out of her, classic kidnapping tactics. Obi-Wan had told her how these things went, and she resolved to do her friend proud. Although, at the time, she had teased him for getting captured frequently enough to have a mental guidebook for the scenario. She resolved to apologize to him for that later.

 

Ahsoka instead tilted her head, as though waiting patiently for him to say something else. Tarkin breathed deeply, clearly frustrated by her unwillingness to play along, but he forged ahead anyway. She had a brief moment of satisfaction at his frustration, counting it a small victory considering the circumstances.

 

Still, he stood in front of her, looking at her calmly for all his frustration.

 

“I learned a great deal in the Citadel, you must know,” he recounted. “Master Even Piell withstood much. He assured me that as long as a Jedi had the Force, they could withstand torture. All men break, I told him, all men. But Jedi, he reminded me, were not simply men. So I wondered. I wondered what would happen if you did not have the Force.”

 

He then moved his hands from behind his back, and in them he held a device she had learned about just before being sent to Anakin on Christophsis. A device dreamed up long ago, a rare device that the Jedi had hunted down and destroyed, destroyed the plans for, and worked to never let them resurface.

 

Her eyes went wide, and her breath froze in her chest.

 

“You know what this is, I see,” Tarkin said, his thin lips pressed into a semblance of a smile. He opened it, and raised it toward her, and she could not help but struggle. She writhed, trying to find some kind of way to move, to keep it away from her neck, but it was no use. With the last of her reserves, with all of her mental might, she _pushed_. He flew across the room, slamming against the far wall, but he got up and strained against her will. She kept up the pressure, though it was taxing, and she knew she couldn’t keep this up. Telekinesis was something she was good at, but directing it like this was exhausting.

 

Eventually, her strength gave, the hunger and the weariness and the work to just keep her body going had sapped her, leaving her unable to defend herself. She sagged in the restraints, spent. Tarkin stood and pulled down his jacket sharply as her assault ended. Satisfied that he was once again in order, he returned his gaze to her.

 

“You are a fighter, Tano, which I can respect to a degree, in the way one respects any dangerous animal,” Tarkin said evenly, walking calmly toward her, once again raising the device to her neck.

 

“However, that does not negate the need for this,” he told her, and the device closed around her neck with a horrifying, hissing snap. She could hear little beeps and a final tone as it completed its cycle.

 

And the Force was gone. Not simply beyond her reach, but _gone_.

 

Panic rising in her chest, she fought for control, fought for her balance, and she wondered how long she could fight.

 

“Now, we can begin our work,” Tarkin said, turning back to the low table that sat to her right against that wall. He opened a drawer, withdrawing her sabers, letting her see them in a cruel taunt at her inability to reach for them. He continued to draw out other implements, but what drew her eyes and what he held up was a slim, sharp knife.

 

“Tell me,” he began as he contemplated the knife, returning to his position in front of her. Then his eyes snapped to her as he laid the flat of the blade against her cheek. “How long have you been an enemy of the Republic?”

 

* * *

 

They had walked for some time in the Sith Temple, exploring side passages or rooms that were often ruined and half collapsed. Anakin was spending a fair amount of concentration to keep his focus, to keep out the whispers in the dark. Which was why he nearly tripped over Ventress when she stopped to kneel and look at something.

 

“Watch where you’re going, boy,” she said dryly, and Anakin felt irritated at her manner and was about to snap a retort when he caught Obi-Wan’s mild expression. _Careful_ , Anakin reminded himself, _you have to be more careful_.

 

“What did you find, Asajj?” Obi-Wan asked, remaining standing. The woman brushed away some fine dust to reveal a jagged scar in the rock. Like it had been stuck by lightning.

 

“This is recent, at least within the last year. The edges are still sharp, and it tells me that whoever was accessing this place has been using it to increase their power,” Ventress said.

 

“Do you think they got hurt doing this?” Anakin asked, taking the cloth from her hand. She stood, dusting herself off as he examined the fabric. She shook her head.

 

“No, this is a Sith Temple. If you die here, you get to serve as a warning to everyone else: the weak fail, the strong survive,” she said, and Anakin could hear the bitter twist in her words. He tried not to feel a flash of sympathy for her.

 

“Perhaps it is the Sith Lord we have been chasing for some ten years now,” Obi-Wan suggested. “Indeed, we know the Sith have some inroads into the Senate, and this would be an excellent source of information and power all too close to the center of things.”

 

“Seems awful lucky we found the marks of, what looks like a discharge of Force lightning,” Anakin said, and then felt the Force growl at him.

 

He frowned.

 

It had never done that before.

 

Turning around quickly, he stared into the darkness, half expecting to see something there, something coming for them.

 

But the hallway behind them was empty.

 

“Anakin, is everything alright?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin frowned and turned back to face the older man. As he moved, he saw something out the corner of his eye.

 

“The boy is feeling the effects of the Temple,” Ventress said, her voice not completely unsympathetic. Anakin ignored her and stretched out his senses, searching for something, for whatever had triggered his sense of danger.

 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly, holding out a hand.

 

“We cannot linger,” Ventress insisted.

 

And then Anakin saw it, or its eyes. Eyes glowing and red and full of so much hate and hunger. The eyes were low to the ground positioned behind Obi-Wan and Ventress. He only had a fraction of time, a split-second to react. So he did what he had always done by instinct: protected other people.

 

The thing leapt, into the light of their sabers, its long-limbed body made out of the same black stone as the Temple. He could see its jaws opening wide and the crested mane flaring out behind its long, narrow, leonine head even as its claws reached for him.

 

Anakin met the creature with his own blade, standing between Obi-Wan and Ventress. Their shock was palpable, but they leapt into action. However, this thing was worse than Grevious. They could score touches on it, but the rock didn’t seem to take any damage. Only Ventress’ blades could injure it, even then only slightly. Worse, it seemed to be concentrating on trying to get to Obi-Wan.

 

It made sense a twisted kind of sense.

 

Obi-Wan wasn’t tainted by the darkside, was firmly in the light. This creature would want to destroy anyone like that first. But it would kill Obi-Wan. Anakin seemed to be able to sense it better than his former Master, able to anticipate its attacks.

 

Anakin made a decision, a decision to make himself a more dangerous target. He started drawing on the Force, lending power and speed to his muscles, making it seem as though time slowed down for him so he could hit harder and faster, and the thing turned its large, solid head to him and screamed. It was a harsh, high screeching kind of scream that was a few decibels down from sonic scrubbers, and it rang in the empty hallways and chambers of the Sith Temple.

 

“You want me? Come and get me!” Anakin challenged, and ran. Ran faster than Obi-Wan or Ventress could follow. But not the creature. The creature followed him, but ringing in Anakin’s ears was a plea he would never forget.

 

“ _Anakin, no!_ ”

 

But Anakin had already disappeared into the darkness of the maze, the creature hot on his heels.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka could control so little, so she exercised an iron will over the one thing left to her: her breathing. In and out, she made her breathing even and unafraid. Tarkin didn’t even seem to notice. Instead, he ran the thin knife’s dull back along her skin, not cutting her, but certainly maintaining a pressure she could not ignore.

 

“You have not answered my question,” he said in a clipped tone, his eyes trained on her face. “How long have you been an enemy of the Republic?”

 

She stared back at him, letting her contempt for the question show in her eyes. There was no point in actually answering, she knew that. He wanted her to answer his questions with what he expected to hear. Answers that would all be lies. But for Tarkin, somehow, lies and truth had gotten turned around and his view of the galaxy was now the only thing he could see.

 

If she hadn’t been kidnapped and under threat of torture, she could pity the man. As it was, she settled for defiant silence.

 

Then, quick and efficient, he sliced the knife through not her flesh, but her clothing. Her top began to peal away as gravity took hold of the cloth and exposed her breasts to the cool air of the room. Her hands clenched into fists, and she felt rage and fear build inside of her. Rage that he would _presume_ to do this to her, to think about her like this. And fear, fear that there was no stopping him.

 

However, he caught himself, recoiling from her exposed flesh as though he had been burned. It was like he couldn’t believe what he had just done. But the moment was gone too quick, and she already started to doubt what she had seen in his eyes.

 

Tarkin cleared his throat and carefully put down the knife.

 

“Think on what your silence has earned you,” he told her, “and in time, I will return. Perhaps you will see the benefit in speaking. It would certainly be… warmer.” With that parting shot he left the room again. Left her alone with her sabers in full view alongside knives and probes and drugs to make a person talk. Left her alone without the aid of the Force to see her through. Left her half naked, cold, and still suspended in beams of unforgiving energy.

 

And she wondered if this was how hate began.

 

* * *

 

Anakin had run, the creature close behind him, and wore it down. The angrier he got, the more he seemed to be able to hurt it, but there was no Obi-Wan around to help him remember to balance himself against his anger, or Ahsoka to inspire him with her bright fount of hope, or Padme to fill his heart with love, love that had always helped remind him not to be angry in the past.

 

The hallway had eventually opened up into another large room, with tall pillars around the edge and a strange altar in the center. There, in that room, Anakin had held his ground and destroyed it, cutting into nothing, and he recalled another time he had let go like this, another threat he had destroyed down to nothingness.

 

There had been screams then, too.

 

Panting with exertion and unspent emotional energy, Anakin hunched over the broken form of the creature and tried to clear his mind, tried to regain his balance. But there was something distracting him, something… singing.

 

He turned in the direction of the sound, and he realized it was only in his mind, but still coming from the altar in the middle of the room. Part of him wanted to run, wanted to get out of here and find Obi-Wan and never come back. They could bring down the 501st and the 212th and level this place into dust. But another part of him was drawn onward, his flesh and blood hand reaching out as if of its own volition, palm outward.

 

The altar began to move, as if reacting to his Force presence, twisting open to reveal a large red jewel inside of it. His hand hovered over the object, a pyramid shaped thing that sang to him, sang a song of power and glory and righteous zeal. It was there, all right there and so close, he could _feel_ it, the power to reshape the galaxy to his will.

 

No more slavery and vile slavers. No more scheming politicians. No more injustice.

 

It offered order, perfect order. And he could give it to them.

 

He would be a hero. He would be a god. He would be loved.

 

And all he had to do was reach out and take it.

 

* * *

 

Once again, Ahsoka hung without time but now without the Force. Her hunger gnawed at her, and her chest felt terribly cold. And she did think about what her silence had earned her. It had unsettled him. It had thrown him off, her unspoken defiance in the face of his anger had driven him back.

 

Although she could not touch the Force, she could still meditate, could still find a source of balance inside herself.

 

This time she closed her eyes and sank into her very self.

 

When he did return, he stared at her with those cold eyes and she matched him glare for glare. Again, he was unsettled, but he must have found more resolve inside of himself as well, because he sighed and took up the knife once again.

 

“It seems that asking you to talk would be pointless right now. So. We must make some things rather clear,” he said, and if she believed him capable of remorse, she would have said he sounded regretful. And she thought she had kept her silence long enough.

 

“I’d say things are rather clear, Tarkin,” she growled, her voice dry and cracked for the lack of water. He paused, the knife a fraction of an inch from her. “You’re mad.”

 

“I am not mad,” he said softly, his whole body taut with desperate tension. She grinned like a huntress.

 

“Oh, you’ve lost the plot alright. You kidnaped a Jedi General, and you’re clearly struggling with some urges here. Kind of awkward, considering I’m not of age yet. A few weeks off seventeen, Tarkin, that’s a big no-no, even if I was a traitor,” she rattled off with a brightness she didn’t completely feel, but hoped it would drive him away again.

 

She grinned widely, wide and fierce, letting her canines show. And for a half a second, she thought she had won.

 

But then his grip tightened on the knife, and with a furious motion, he sliced off her pants, cutting into her flesh as well. Blood ran down her legs in rivulets, and with a sick, detached fascination, she watched him completely strip her naked, hacking at her boots and removing her bracers. His hair fell out of its neat, slicked back styling, and he was breathing heavily.

 

She felt horror sink in her belly.

 

He looked up at her, a burning madness in his eyes.

 

With quick movements, he reached for a blunt instrument, foregoing the more subtle devices and drugs, and swung it at her right leg. She heard a sick snap and though she wanted to maintain composure, to not give him the satisfaction of her pain, she cried out in agony.

 

Then he turned to her lekku. She was no Twi’lek, but they were still sensitive. He had clearly studied Togruta biology, because he began to wrap pressure bands around them, painful and nauseating. He left them there. Then he set up sonic scramblers against her montrals, making her scream in harmony with her own pain as the sound invaded her mind.

 

And he hit her. Again and again and again. Body blows that knocked the breath out of her, keeping her from keeping any semblance of equilibrium in the face of his onslaught. She felt bile rise in her throat, because that was all that was in her stomach. Unable to stop herself, she threw up, the bands on her lekku throwing off what physical reserves she had, causing him only a moment of disgust between hitting her again.

 

If he had started slow, worked his way up through various forms of pain, she might have withstood the punishment. Allowed her body time to get used to its new reality.

 

But this, it was overwhelming. It was too much. She could take no more.

 

“Stop,” she sobbed, “please stop.”

 

Hand raised to strike another blow, he stopped, and with a terrifying gentleness removed the sonic devices from her montrals. Although the bands on her lekku were still in place, she could manage to think just a little now. She licked her lips, aware of his close scrutiny, and she could taste her own blood and bile on her tongue.

 

The hand that had hurt her only a few moments ago reached up and tenderly stroked her cheek in a dark mockery of concern. She stared down at him, wondering how she had underestimated him so badly, but it was too late now.

 

“Tell me, do you have something to confess?” he asked, drawing close to her, and her skin crawled. “I would be grateful, and you would not need to be in such pain.” He lightly touched her lekku as if to demonstrate the point.

 

The words almost stuck in her throat, not at the lie, but at the giving in when always she had fought. Fought against people making assumptions about her because she was too brash, too loud, too reckless. She had fought to be calmer, more thoughtful, wiser.

 

This fight, however, had only netted her pain. She tried to think of those she loved, those who would urge to fight, to be strong. Anakin’s powerful force of will, so often set against Obi-Wan’s measured thoughtfulness. She thought of Shaak Ti’s lessons in the turu-grass, Master Plo’s keen sense of justice, and Padme’s quiet strength. She turned her mind to her _vod’e_ , their determination in the face of overwhelming odds. And of course, she thought of Rex and his faith in her, the faith that had him risking his life for her over and over. But none of them were here.

 

She did not have the Force. She didn’t even have her clothes.

 

She was alone.

 

Completely and utterly alone.

 

“Yes, yes I do,” she said brokenly.

 

And as Tarkin smiled, the smile of the righteous madman, Ahsoka began to hate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darkest spot yet, my friends, and please any con/crit for writing this is welcome. Not my usual topic, and want to be handling this well.


	6. Through the Mud and the Mire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quasi-safe. Nothing graphic, but general ick levels are still fairly high.

The shuttle set down neatly in the hangar bay on the _Adamant_ , and Rex strode forward to greet the generals and commanders that had answered his call. He felt a twinge of guilt for dragging others into this, but Skywalker hadn’t answered his message and his general needed help now. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, and tried not to give in to the smoldering rage that he felt. There were going to be Jedi around soon, and that kind of thing only threw them off.

 

With a hiss, the shuttle doors opened, and out stepped Generals Secura and Koon, followed by their respective Padawans and Commanders. It had surprised the hell out of everyone when the entire 104th had shown up, when Koon had stated only he would be arriving. Rex was certain there had been words exchanged about whatever stunt Tai had pulled, but Rex was grateful for it.

 

Kersos stood next to Rex, and bowed his head.

 

“Welcome to the _Adamant_ ,” the Admiral said, “we have a briefing room set up and ready to go. If you would follow me, I’m sure none of us want to waste any time.”

 

“No, we certainly do not,” Koon said sharply, and they all followed in the careful silence that had hung around the ship since the kidnapping. Rex knew everyone had been walking around him carefully since they recovered him from the escape pod, and he could see the relief on Kersos’ face at having more of a buffer between Rex and himself right now. Rex didn’t blame the man. Rex didn’t really want to be round himself either.

 

Unfortunately, there was no helping that.

 

It didn’t take long for them all to get settled, Jedi and troopers sitting around the long table as Kersos recounted finding the derelict ship, and then it came the part Rex had been dreading. He stood, keeping his hands clasped behind his back, doing his level best to keep his voice even as he recounted how he had followed his general, followed _Ahsoka_ , on the ship, been there for the droid attack and told them who had been behind it.

 

General Secura narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, intent and angry.

 

“ _Tarkin_? The same man who was set to prosecute her when she was suspected of the Temple bombing?” she asked.

 

“Yes, sir,” Rex answered, keeping his voice as controlled as possible. “It seems he is unconvinced of her innocence.” Then he hesitated, unsure how to say the rest, how to tell them what he suspected and dreaded about the kind of danger his Jedi was actually in.

 

“There is something else, Commander, something you are holding back,” Koon said, not ungently. Rex eyed Ekria and Tai, and wondered if they should hear this, wondered if they were able to hear it. Koon was about to speak again, but he didn’t get the chance.

 

“You can tell us, Commander,” Ekria said, surprising Rex. He would have bet Tai would have piped up first. “We know what we face out here, on the Outer Rim.” And in that one statement was more awareness than a fifteen-year-old girl should have to have. Rex clenched his fist and breathed out, steadying himself enough to give voice to the fear that had gnawed at him since his general had flung him into that life pod.

 

“I believe Tarkin is fixated, personally, on General Tano, and that the trap was designed specifically for her,” Rex said, and he heard General Secura swear none-too-softly. Then she looked directly at General Koon, a fire in her eyes.

 

“We need to act quickly, Plo,” she said, “I know better than most what being the object of fixation is like, and…”

 

“We will not let her linger, Aayla,” Koon agreed, looking his fellow Jedi in the eye, his voice measured as always but with an implacable will behind it. Then he turned back to the rest of them. “Do we have a location or a trail to follow?”

 

“That’s the problem, Generals,” Kersos said. “We were able to follow the ship to where the life pod was because we could calculate the trajectory based on the readings were able to take. However, by the time we arrived to the location of Rex’s pod, the ship was long gone.”

 

Rex knew no one blamed him, no one thought he could have done anything different or that he was the reason they lost the general’s trail. But that didn’t stop him from blaming himself. That maybe if they hadn’t come for him, they could have found her. He could have survived. There was air where he had landed, and he had rations on him at all times.

 

He felt his jaw clench and his teeth grind as he stood there, feeling their scrutiny.

 

“You said he had droids, right, Rex?” Bly asked, leaning forward on his arms, thankfully keeping his demeanor professional.

 

“B1s, commandos, and droidekas. What are you thinking?” Rex asked sharply. Bly tilted his head and scratched his chin.

 

“That kind of compliment means some kind of deal, money or something, but either way, _traceable_ ,” Bly pointed out. “We don’t need to figure out his trail away from us, but where he has things stashed.”

 

“Ha!” Wolffe exclaimed. “Get him with his own shipping! I like it!” Rex nodded sharply, and looked to the Jedi. He saw General Secura give Bly a bright, proud grin, to which he ducked his head, and General Koon tapped his talons thoughtfully. Ekria had already dug out her datapadd, and Tai was looking over her shoulder.

 

“Well reasoned, Commander Bly,” Kersos said. “I will coordinate with the other Navy staff on your ships, and I shall leave the ground battle plans to you, should they become necessary.” The Admiral stood and bowed himself out, clapping Rex on the shoulder as he went. Rex breathed out slowly, maintaining control, and Kersos left quickly, as he realized that sympathy was counterproductive.

 

“Looks like the Jedi are working hard, _vod_. Maybe we should do the same,” Bly suggested quietly, getting out of chair and leaning against the table next to Rex. Rex squared his shoulders, and suddenly felt his anger rise anew. Ahsoka, the _General_ , she would have known what that movement meant, known and been able to calm him down without even thinking about it.

 

“Three battalions,” Wolffe grumbled, “Three battalions that have never worked together before. We got things to hash out.” Rex felt on more solid ground, and nodded, leading them out of the room, the Jedi not even looking up as they left, absorbed in tracking down the man who had kidnapped one of their number.

 

“Alright, I’ve got an office,” Rex said tersely, and led his brothers through the corridors of the _Adamant_ to the tiny office he had by virtue of his rank. Rex was about to take up his datapadd, but was pulled into a rough hug, Bly holding Rex’s forehead to his own. Rex tried to fight it, to back away from his brother, from this blatant show of sympathy, from the gesture that threatened to make all those feelings that he had been suppressing rise up in his chest. His breathing turned shallow and he felt his throat closing up.

 

Then Wolffe headbutted him in the side of the head.

 

“Deal with it, _vod_ ,” Wolffe growled. “This is killing you, and you’re no good to anyone like this.” Rex gave one last half-hearted attempt to get away from his brothers, but gave up and closed his eyes, taking what comfort he could from brothers who knew, knew what it was to care more than they should for their Jedi. Even Wolffe.

 

“Can’t imagine what you’re going through, Rex,” Bly said quietly, “but we aren’t going to let you suffer. _She_ wouldn’t want that, and you know it.”

 

Rex let out a shuddering breath, and let himself feel what he had been keeping locked away. So much anger, and so much of it at himself, but both of his brothers were right. He couldn’t go on like this, and his General, his Jedi, _Ahsoka_ , would be the first person to kick his ass for this kind of behavior. His shoulders relaxed, ever so slightly, and his head felt clearer, if only a little.

 

As if able to sense Rex’s acceptance of the situation, Bly let him go, and Wolffe backed up.

 

“Thank you, _vod’e_ ,” Rex said, voice quiet. Bly gave him a wry grin, but Wolffe, and of course it was Wolffe, grunted.

 

“We going to work on a battle plan or what? I didn’t let that tiny girl talk me into disobeying orders to just sit around and talk about feelings,” Wolffe said.

 

“Way to be sensitive, Wolffe,” Bly muttered.

 

“Kriff you, Bly, I’m so karking sensitive its astounding,” Wolffe replied, and Rex snorted in amusement. It was oddly comforting to know that some things never changed.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan tried to reach out with the Force along the bond he shared with Anakin, but this place, this _perversion_ of the Force distorted everything. Sighing with frustration, he opened his eyes to see Asajj standing beside him, her sabers drawn and looking ready to attack anything that so much as dared to move.

 

She did not like this place any more than he did, though for different reasons he knew.

 

“I still cannot find him,” Obi-Wan said, doing his best to keep the worry out of his voice. Once, he would have said he was merely concerned, but now, now he could admit that he was desperately worried for Anakin, to be lost in a place like this, a place that urged him to give in to his darker side. Opening the door had been one thing, as Obi-Wan had been there to help ground his former apprentice.

 

Now, however, Anakin was lost to him in the darkness. Alone.

 

“Then it seems we will have to search the old fashioned way,” Asajj said dryly. “As much as one can in a place like this.”

 

“Thank you, Asajj,” he said softly, “for your help.” She turned to look at him then, her pale eyes caught between cynicism and hope. Then she huffed, shaking her head, as though trying to clear it.

 

“The terms of my parole are rather clear, as you said, and you are fond of the boy. You would be completely intolerable if something were to happen to him,” she allowed, and Obi-Wan had already learned what Asajj meant when she said things like that. He let the corner of his mouth twitch, but could not summon up a full smile as he might otherwise have.

 

“Then, let us go retrieve my wayward friend,” he said, and they began to walk in silence, senses attuned to even the tiniest disturbance. He had no desire to meet another one of those stone creatures, creatures of hunger and hate that had nearly made him sick to simply be near.

 

It was because he was using the Force to heighten his senses that Obi-Wan noticed the movement, as they rounded a corner to see an intersection. The figure was in unrelieved black, and was hurrying as though they knew where they were going.

 

“Halt!” he shouted, just as Asajj hissed: “ _Don’t!_ ”

 

The figure turned, facing him down a narrow corridor, and Obi-Wan could feel the unbounded malevolence that poured off of the other being. _Sith_ , he knew, and perhaps not an apprentice this time, but the master, the one that had eluded him for ten years. The one who was responsible for Qui-Gon’s death, the death of millions, and so much of Anakin’s pain.

 

His fist tightened on his blade, and Obi-Wan settled into a fighter’s stance, his challenge unmistakable.

 

There was a moment, a single moment that stretched out, as Obi-Wan stared at the being that had been the cause of so much suffering, and then he saw why. Without anything to give the Sith away, without a smile or a twitch or a warning from even the Force, the Sith Lord crossed the distance between them and brought his blade to bear upon him. It was only his training, and his constant practice these days with the war that saved him.

 

Behind him, Asajj backed up, giving him room in the narrow corridor, and he retreated to the corner they had so recently turned down. He saw her press her body into the corner, as though letting them both pass, then she struck, her teeth bared in a snarl as she attacked the being that had, in theory, been her Master’s Master.

 

Even with the two of them flanking the Sith, he still moved too quickly, fueled by the dark side of the Force and in a place of dark power.

 

Obi-Wan knew that Asajj was doing her best, but they did not fight together as well as he and Anakin did, and it showed. Their swings were a half a second too slow, or only barely mistimed, their footwork not perfectly in sync. And that was why the Sith Lord was able to find an opening and push Asajj backwards, sending her flying and hitting the stone.

 

As she hit, she managed to keep ahold of her blades, but their red light died as the safety activated.

 

Then it was just Obi-Wan and the Sith Lord. There was no banter, no witty repartee. Instead, it was a desperate struggle to counter each aggressive attack. But Obi-Wan knew he was in a losing battle, without backup of any kind. The Sith raised its hand, a pale claw, and Obi-Wan could see the electrical spark of Force lightning begin to gather. As he watched he had one, last desperate thought, that it could not end like this, that he could not fail Anakin so completely as this.

 

Then Asajj was there, interposing himself between him and the Sith Lord, taking the lighting on her sabers. She had moved so fast, likely burning up too many of her reserves, and she fell to the floor, crying out in agony.

 

“Asajj!” he cried, and reached for her, his fingers burning as the some of the lightning arced to him as well. Obi-Wan looked up, trying to peer under the hood that obscured the Sith Lord’s face, but saw only darkness.

 

Then, just when Obi-Wan thought he might actually die, die and leave so much left undone, the Temple rang like a bell. But this was not a light, exultant sound that most bells had. This was an ominous tolling, a resounding shift in the air that rang through one’s very bones. The Sith Lord’s concentration faltered, the lighting dissipating, though Obi-Wan still in too much pain to move.

 

The being standing before him hissed in frustration and then sped away. Had they been anywhere else, Obi-Wan would have counted this a lucky break, but they were in the heart of a Sith Temple. And Anakin was still unaccounted for. Further, knowing Anakin, he was likely the cause of that ominous tone. Still, as Obi-Wan looked down at Asajj, who was already groaning and trying to haul herself back up, he knew what he had to do.

 

Get Asajj out first, then go back in for Anakin.

 

He hauled her up, throwing one of her long, strong arms over his shoulders and began to walk. She complained, of course, berated him for a fool, but Obi-Wan could not leave her there. The terms of her parole were rather clear, as she had noted, and she was his to care for now. And Obi-Wan had only ever wanted to protect those in his care.

 

* * *

 

Ekria had buried herself in the holonet. She was at home there, among the bright lines of information and code, all racing about through various kinds of transmissions. Unlike many of her peers, she lacked a particular talent of her own with the Force. But this, this she could do.

 

Or so she had thought.

 

It should have only taken an hour, perhaps two, to locate something as large as a purchase of battle droids on the scale Commander Rex had talked about. And she knew all the tricks: shell companies, fake names, paying only in hard credits, but _something_ would have showed up on the holonet. A seemingly innocuous post by some hapless mechanic who had worked on a few too many droids, that sort of thing.

 

But there was _nothing_.

 

She threw the datapadd at the bulkhead in frustration, where it rebounded sharply and struck the opposite wall. Right next to Master Secura’s head. Her master, composed even in the hardest of times, merely cracked an eye open to regard Ekria.

 

“You will not help anyone by becoming angry, Ekria, and no one blames you. If there is nothing, there is nothing, and we must try other methods,” Aayla said, as though Ahsoka’s very life wasn’t riding on this. That was probably why Aayla and Master Plo had been meditating so much. To keep themselves balanced. Ekria wished she was as good as that.

 

At least Tai got to work with the troopers on deployment and tactics.

 

“But there is always something, Master,” Ekria whined, and she could admit, it was a whine.

 

“How you can you be certain that there is something in this instance as well?” Aayla asked, and it had all the flavor of a lesson. Ekria had learned that her new master was fond of on the spot lessons.

 

“Because… because I can feel it,” she answered, “I just know when there’s information out there to be found.”

 

“Feel it, like how you feel things through the Force?” the other woman asked, eyes now intent. Ekria shook her head.

 

“The Force isn’t in the holonet, Master,” Ekria said, trying to sound deferential while correcting a point of fact. Aayla snorted with amusement.

 

“Of that, I am aware, my dear, but perhaps I did not phrase the question correctly. What if it is not the holonet you have a skill for, but rather, for seeking that which does not want to be found?” she asked pointedly and Ekria blinked, taken aback at the idea that she had an actual Force talent all her own.

 

“Maybe?” she said, halfway between a statement and a question.

 

“Try, my dear. We do not have anything to lose in trying, but there is so much we could gain,” Aayla said, and Ekria picked up the sense of urgency that was riding underneath her master’s serene countenance.

 

Nodding and working very hard not to feel too pressured, Ekria sank into a meditative state, and rather than the usual pictures of the Force she had used all her life, she pictured the holonet instead. Not what it actually looked like, but what it looked like in her mind, with bright clusters of data around planets and stations and moons, and threads of light between them and around those clusters hurtling like shooting stars. And she couldn’t exactly describe what she did or how it felt, but it was like a pressure built up in her head, a wanting to find, to locate, to grab hold of that which wanted to be hidden.

 

Deep breath in, she steadied herself, and then with a long, slow exhalation, she let the Force guide her. The galaxy of information seemed to swirl around her, hurtling through emptiness until they came to a rest at a dark place in the grid. Dark not only in terms of a lack of data, but dark in the Force as well. Sending a tendril of thought, she touched one of the few clusters of information, and then recoiled.

 

Horror seeped into her very soul, and she didn’t know that anything could ever feel like that.

 

She must have screamed or cried out, because she opened her eyes to find her master cradling her in her arms. Aayla Secura’s cool blue skin felt calming and reassuring on her cheek, and the gentle fingers stroked her hair, letting Ekria get her breathing back under control.

 

“Ekria, what happened?” her master asked, concern unhidden.

 

“I found him, Master. I need a star chart,” she said, disentangling herself from the comforting embrace. She called up the star chart ran her hands along it, shaking her head, muttering, trying to find the right sector, a sector she would know on sight, she knew it.

 

Then she found it. She hit the projection key, and the planet appeared in holographic form between them.

 

“He’s there, likely with her as well, Master. On Moriband.”

 

* * *

 

Asajj grunted as she sat back in the speeder, Kenobi having helped her back into the vehicle. She was still hurting from the lightning the Sith Lord had thrown at them. It had been powerful, terrifyingly so. Dooku had choked her on occasion, and it had become a fixture of her live in service to her former master. But that had been beyond agony, like every nerve was on fire.

 

“Here, don’t move more than you have to,” Kenobi said, still fussing over her like some kind of overbearing parent. She sighed, which hurt, but then everything hurt. Still, she could give him a glare that told him exactly how she felt.

 

“Why are you wasting time, Kenobi? Go back in there and rescue the boy,” she told him.

 

“You need to contact the Temple, but you don’t have the codes,” he said, and she could feel the tension in him, the fear. Not for himself, but the boy. She smirked, and then began to key in the communication codes for the Jedi Temple. The ones to reach the Council directly. He noticed, and then frowned.

 

“I don’t want to know, do I?” he asked, sighing.

 

“Probably not,” she answered, and he looked at her then, with eyes so full of gratitude it made her uncomfortable. “Just get him and come back in one piece, Kenobi. Your commander would try to take it out of my hide if you got hurt.”

 

“Cody? I don’t… never mind, not important. Do your best to convince them to come, and if you can’t…” he trailed off.

 

“They will, Obi-Wan,” she said, trying for a modicum of gentleness, which really got his attention, so she reverted back to her normal demeanor. “I can assure you of that. Now. Go!”

 

With a sigh, and a backwards glance, Kenobi drew his saber and went back into the Sith Temple, alone. To find his former apprentice, a boy who didn’t know how lucky he was, in her estimation. And to possibly face a Sith Lord that had nearly killed him once. All she could do was sit and try to summon the other Jedi to his aid.

 

That, at least, she could do.

 

The passcodes had been accepted and she got a lackey. Lackeys were easy to spot, because they always tried to sound important and failed.

 

“I don’t care,” she snapped in response to being asked for credentials. “This is Asajj Ventress, and if you don’t get your righteous asses down here _yesterday_ , you’re going to lose two of your best generals. But no, by all means, ask for more confirmation, you kriffing idiot.”

 

There was silence on the line, and she thought they might have cut the comm, but then she heard something like the shuffle of robes.

 

“Ventress,” came the clipped voice of Mace Windu. “We have a fix on your location. Keep this channel open, and give me all the details you can while I’m en route.”

 

She smiled, a sharp, nasty kind of smile. A paragon of the Jedi, Windu, but certainly she knew his quality in a fight. The Sith Lord was going to have his hands full now, and perhaps, if they were lucky, she might not lose one of the only real friends she actually had.

 

* * *

 

Rex kept at Ekria’s side throughout the landing on Moriband. She was leading the strike team that would go get Ahsoka, and there was no way Rex wasn’t going to get his General. He had said as much in no uncertain terms and no one had dared to contradict him.

 

When they had arrived at the planet, they had only been expecting battle droids, but to their surprise, there were human life signs all over the place. It looked like they were commanding the various droid units, as near as anyone could tell. That had necessitated a little juggling in battle group division, but Rex had been unmovable on that single point.

 

Now they were landing, Tai leading the main squad of fighters as they cleared a path. Koon had decided that the planet would overload her sense of place in the Force, and Rex was glad to see the girl had accepted the order well. Of course, she happily climbed into the cockpit of a fighter and talked excitedly about ‘shooting tinnies.’

 

With a jolt, they were on the ground, and Rex took point out of the gunship, Ekria following close behind. Their small squad set down in a little hidden gully on the dry planet, near the cave system where Ekria said Tarkin was, and was likely holding Ahsoka. Hands tightening on the handles of his blasters, he was itching to kill something, but he kept a close rein on himself as they moved out.

 

Rex really hoped Koon and Secura were being properly distracting.

 

* * *

 

Plo Koon had always thought himself a reasonable person. Certainly he had a deep sense of justice and did not care to see the innocent fall to harm. But this, the kidnapping of his foundling, of his little ‘Soka, coming close on the heels of learning about the betrayal of his troopers, his sons.   A confluence of injustice he had never seen.

 

So, as Aayla cleared a landing area, drawing enemy fire with her implacable tactics with her commander close behind, Plo Koon advanced at a walking pace, all alone. The humans here were odd, to his senses, as though they were closed in on themselves, but with a zeal that sat uneasily in his mind. Soon, Aayla was far ahead, and it appeared as though he were vulnerable and ripe for killing. More droids and their human overseers poured out of the various hiding places in this dry, rocky landscape.

 

They drew close, and Plo Koon sighed with only a trace of regret.

 

The Kel Dor sage reached out to the Force and felt it answer him, and the lightning arced out from his body, using his species’ natural affinity for electromagnetism to allow him to use an ability normally only available to users of the dark side.

 

But here, in this time and in this place, the lightning tore through rank after rank of droids, arcing through their human overseers, and devastating the battlefield.

 

In the silence afterwards, he heard Wolffe trot up beside him.

 

“Hell of a punch, General. Can’t understand why you don’t use it more,” he said. Plo turned to his Commander, the man who was the son of his heart.

 

“Because it is not always _just_ to do so, Wolffe,” he answered, and though he normally tried to explain more, he did not feel up to it at this time. Instead, he drew his saber and ran to join Aayla as she continued to carve a path through the enemy. Wolffe followed at his heels, and Koon had faith that Commander Rex would find Ahsoka if he had but the chance.

 

So, he worked to give the man his opening.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan walked back through the Temple, but it felt different. It felt like the whole place was watching him, guiding him almost. Cautiously, he followed the corridors he had been certain were not there before, taken turns that now went the opposite direction previously. So he was led, led through the Sith Temple to a large, central room.

 

Anakin stood behind a pedestal, with what had to be a Sith holocron in his flesh and blood hand and fire in his eyes. Electricity arced off of him, scoring the stone around him.

 

“Anakin, we need to go now,” Obi-Wan said calmly, keeping his emotions viciously in check. The last thing he needed was Anakin to sense any of his turmoil.

 

“No, Obi-Wan, don’t you see? I’m keeping the Sith Lord away from us with this. It’s responding to me, and I have the power. We could end the war,” Anakin said, his voice echoing oddly in the gloom.

 

Obi-Wan advanced one step at a time.

 

“End the war, free the slaves. Do everything… everything I promised I would do,” he said, and Obi-Wan’s heart nearly broke for his apprentice, because he knew to whom that promise had been made. A woman dead these last three years, a woman he had failed, whose son he had failed if this was how things were going to go.

 

But Obi-Wan had been through his own encounters with the Dark side, on Zigoola, and he remembered Mortis better than he would have liked to.

 

So like before at the entrance to the Temple, Obi-Wan reached past all the worry and anxiety and trepidation, all the sorrow and pain that had been in his life and found the kernel of love and compassion that had seen him through so much loss. He found his hard won ability to put himself outside of the center of his own reasoning. He breathed out, and gently, ever so gently, put his hand around Anakin’s own.

 

The holocron flared with angry, red energy. Obi-Wan felt it scream at him, incoherent in rage and hate, but he held on to Anakin, in spite of the pain that began to grip him. Anakin turned his head to look at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan looked back up at the man he had half raised and loved as a brother.

 

For a moment, Anakin’s eyes were unseeing, uncaring, without any of the warmth and verve that was normally there.

 

Then he blinked.

 

“Master?” he asked, sounding more like the lost boy he had been than the man he was. Then he looked down at the holocron and recoiled, flinging it away, as though he could throw away the dark power that had consumed him so nearly.

 

“We need to go, Anakin,” Obi-Wan insisted, this most recent pain adding a new, special layer on top of his previous hurts. As if to underscore the need for urgency, the Temple groaned, as though hundreds of thousands of kilograms of stone were giving way.

 

“Yes, we do,” Anakin agreed without hesitation, and together they ran. The corridors were now as they had been once, but Anakin seemed to know where he was going, like he had a map of the Temple inside his head. However, there was no time for contemplation as the walls behind them began to buckle and cave in under the enormous pressures from above.

 

They closed in on the door, but the pillars in the main entry hall were wobbling precariously. Just as they were halfway through, one fell across their path, and they both halted in their tracks. Before they could confer, Anakin simply used the Force and _flung_ Obi-Wan to the door. For better worse, Obi-Wan had become used to Anakin’s tendency to not providing sufficient warning, and braced himself and landed on his feet. Seconds later, Anakin landed beside him just as the Temple began to cave in on itself.

 

Asajj sat up sharply in the speeder, and started to climb out, but then Obi-Wan noticed that Mace Windu was there. The Korun Master put a light hand on Asajj’s shoulder. Mace earned a cutting glare for his efforts, but kept his hand. Obi-Wan smiled to see the woman so mellow now. She grinned sharply at him in turn.

 

“I thought I sent you down here to investigate the cause of the dark emanations, not destroy important historical artifacts,” Windu said, and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, not in the mood to placate Mace at the moment.

 

“Considering you sent _us_ , I would assume you had this mind, Mace,” Obi-Wan drawled, doing his best not to hobble as he reached the speeder. Anakin was close behind him, staying thankfully quiet for once.

 

Mace looked from him, to Anakin and then to Asajj. Anakin had busied himself getting a medical kit out, and ignored the man. Asajj matched Mace Windu stare for stare, and then the older Jedi Master sighed.

 

“What happened, Obi-Wan?” Mace asked. Anakin started handing pain medication to Asajj, which she took without comment. It seemed this little experience, had formed something of a bridge between them. That, or the fact that neither of them liked Mace very much.

 

Obi-Wan would take what he could get at the moment.

 

“We investigated, but I believe we triggered an ancient protective droid, or a creature that could remain dormant for some time. Anakin drew it away from myself and Asajj, but while we searched for him, we believe we encountered the adversary we have been looking for these past twelve years,” Obi-Wan said, and watched as Mace did his best to keep himself under control. A veteran of many Jedi Council sessions, Obi-Wan knew that eye twitch anywhere.

 

“Are you certain?” Mace pressed, and Obi-Wan nodded, leaning against the speeder while Asajj grumpily tended her own wounds and Anakin looked on as though he wished he could do anything but avoid Mace Windu’s gaze.

 

“Yes, and we were lucky to escape. Asajj took a great deal of Force lightning meant for me,” Obi-Wan said, and saw Mace’s eyes widen a fraction. “I went back in for Anakin after helping her get back out. I was able to find Anakin, who apparently accidentally triggered some kind of self-destruct device. I am certain that saved us, as our adversary likely had to flee, as well.”

 

Mace looked from Obi-Wan to Anakin to Asajj again, and then shook his head, as though he were giving up.

 

“Very well, I will escort you back to the Temple. You will all report to the Halls of Healing, and then you will brief the Council. Even you, Lady Ventress,” Mace said, giving her an honorific, which made Asajj look at Mace like he had grown a second head.

 

Regardless, he left and climbed into his own speeder, and Obi-Wan noticed that Mace had come down by himself. In a speeder model similar to the one Anakin had chosen. Obi-Wan made a mental note to nettle the man about it later, but for now, he had two people to take care of.

 

He hopped into the speeder, or at least tried to do so.

 

Wincing, he set his feet back down on the ground and resolutely did not look at Anakin as he calmly and carefully got into the speeder. Anakin was at the controls, as per usual, while Asajj cast a final, backwards glare at Mace as he took off.

 

“I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin said, voice tightly controlled, but Obi-Wan could hear the panic underneath it. He could feel it. Obi-Wan gripped Anakin’s shoulder.

 

“We will have to talk about this,” Obi-Wan said, and then looked over his shoulder at the woman in the back seat. “All of us. But I am not going to do anything that will bring either of you to harm.” Asajj merely flicked her wrist at him, a kind of acknowledgement that was all her.

 

Anakin nodded, but he still had not taken them up and out.

 

“Anakin, I know you have your struggles, but they are my struggles too. We are friends, that is, I have been told, how it works,” he said, trying for a little levity, and was rewarded with a slight smile.

 

“Yeah, I’ve heard that, too,” Anakin said, and took them out. Obi-Wan settled back into his seat and, in spite of the events that had just transpired, did his best to enjoy Anakin flying safely for once.

 

Anakin, on the other hand, tried to feel calmer, and more at ease with himself than he actually did. Because he could still hear its song, the song of the holocron, the _Sith_ holocron. Hear its temptation of power and glory and everything he had ever wanted.

 

He knew he had to resist it. Had to drown it out and forget what it was like to be that powerful, to not need anyone else to guide or protect him. Had to not want to go back and find a way to take that power.

 

And he feared that he would not be strong enough. Not this time.

 

* * *

 

Tarkin was back again. This time he listened to her as she recounted how she and her former lover had plotted the Temple bombing. It made her flesh crawl at how his eyes lit up when she talked about the scant handful of times she had been with Barriss. But the bands around her lekku had been removed, and her leg had been set, if not very well.

 

That had hurt a great deal, more than the original breaking in some ways.

 

She was fed, now, small meals to help her adjust to not having had food. Human servants, or lackeys, or whatever they were had come in while Tarkin was off dreaming more plots for her to confess to. They were dressed in the same uniform, though they lacked all the fancy metal work, save for the stylized eye pin on their collar. Humans, men and women, who fed her and cleaned her up, to make her ready for the next round.

 

And she was still naked.

 

The cuts on her legs had been shallow, luckily, and had healed well with the bandages. No bacta, though. Bacta was too good for the likes of her.

 

Naked and wearing a Force-suppression device, she recounted how she had let Barriss take the fall for her idea, and tried to fight the words in her mind. _You did not do this_ , she reminded herself over and over, to prevent the lie from becoming the truth in her mind. She was mid-description of how she had seduced Barriss one last time, when a flunky poked their head in.

 

Tarkin look at the man sharply, pinning the man where he stood, half in and half out of the door.

 

“I gave strict orders that I was not to be interrupted,” Tarkin bit out, and the man looked nervous.

 

“Sir… there’s a… problem,” the man said, but before Tarkin could respond, an explosion rocked the room. Ahsoka’s eyes widened. She _knew_ that ordinance. They had come for her, Anakin had made them, and she would be free soon. Fighting not to smile, Ahsoka tried to look like she didn’t know what had just happened. But Tarkin was not fooled.

 

“Watch her,” Tarkin said, and left peremptorily, and strode through the door. The man eyed her warily. He was not one of her usual keepers, and he was clearly nervous.

 

But there was little she could do while still held suspended in the energy cuffs.

 

There was another explosion. The man looked to her, and then to the ceiling, like it was about to collapse at any minute. She tilted her head, listening to the steady boom and trying to feel the shocks as best as she could. She smiled, for the first time in she didn’t know how long, her huntress’ smile.

 

“They’re getting closer,” she said, and the man jumped, spooked that she had spoken.

 

“Be quiet,” he said. “Not supposed to talk to you.” Another explosion rocked her prison, making her sabers rock on the counter where Tarkin left them.

 

“Can’t stop me from talking to you,” she said, feeling like she was clawing back some control, however small.

 

“ _Shut up_ ,” the man hissed, rounding on her.

 

There was another explosion.

 

The ceiling did cave in then, stone falling around them, forcing the man back, and she twisted, just enough, as a rock fell on the machine producing the stasis beam. She fell, hard, but free. The man looked at her from the other side of some rubble, eyes wide and terrified. She still lacked the Force, but she had hunted an akul on the plains of Shili with just a spear and her wits.

 

Although her right leg hurt, she leapt over the rubble and drove her knee into the man’s stomach, dropping him like a sack of sand. She punched him across the face for good measure, to keep him from waking up too soon and raising an alarm.

 

She didn’t stop to think. If she stopped to think, she would be lost.

 

With quick, economical movements, she got to her sabers, and picked them up. She had almost forgotten how well they had fit in her hands. Turning one on, she carefully sliced through the Force-suppression collar, and the Force came rushing back to her. She could sense a battle around her, unsurprisingly, confusion, pain, death, and it felt bright and immediate to her, in a way it hadn’t since Christophsis, her first battle. She could also sense others, other Jedi, but not her former Master. Anakin felt far away, too far to sense much more with only a cursory check, and she only spared half a moment to wonder about it before getting back to her goal: escape.

 

The door was still slightly open, and she slid through it, able to sense that no one was nearby. She wasn’t sure where she was, or which way out was, but this area was empty at the moment. And it had airflow. Raising her head, she sniffed at the air, and could sense a slight breeze. She followed the direction it came from, and hoped it would lead to the outside.

 

* * *

 

Rex took point as they went through the cave system, leading his men through light resistance. The humans here were cowards, he decided, unable to withstand an honest fight with blasters pointed in their direction. They looked good, with their black uniforms, and little pins on the collar, but whatever they were, they weren’t soldiers.

 

“He’s moving,” Ekria said, then gasped. “Ahsoka!” It took everything Rex had to not round on her and demand to know where she was. Luckily, Ekria was already moving, leading them through the tunnels. They went down, past statues and old, strange devices that looked like traps. Whatever they were, Ekria led them on as though she had a homing beacon reading.

 

She came to a halt as they turned down another hallway, and then Rex saw him.

 

 _Tarkin_.

 

He raised his blasters, ready to shoot the man there and then. Then he saw a flicker of movement behind the man, burnt-orange and white with a touch of blue.

 

His eyes widened behind his helmet visor, and he hesitated.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka had worked her way through the tunnels and realized these were caves. Not a place she was naturally at home, but she had been in them before on various planets. And she had learned how to find her way up and out. But then, she had caught a sound, the sound of clipped, precise footfalls, and her heart stopped.

 

Tarkin. Tarkin was close, and she sped down the corridor toward him to see him with his back to her. Beyond him she could see troopers and a Jedi, but she wasn’t paying attention to them. Her vision narrowed to contain only her tormenter, her enemy, the man who was now _her_ prey.

 

“Tarkin!” she called out, and the man turned to her, for once fear in his eyes, and that gratified something in her, something that had not been there before. She leapt, calling on the Force, her sabers angled to cut off his head. She wanted him dead, she wanted him dead and far away from her, unable to hurt her ever again. But as she was about to swing down, she heard something like the cry of a bird, and at the last second she stabbed her sabers into the stone floor.

 

Kneeling over him, still naked but hardly powerless, her sabers melted the stone on either side of his head. Blue eyes boring into grey, she saw that he had gone beyond fear and into complete terror. Her jaw clenched, and her breathing turned shallow. She wanted to kill him, she wanted to destroy him for what he had done to her, for how he had made her feel small and helpless and nothing more than a mere object, a thing to be played with.

 

“General!” she heard, and she looked up from under her brows, and saw Rex standing here, his blasters in his hands. She returned her attention to Tarkin, and then breathed out slowly.

 

She turned her sabers off and stood as best she could now that her leg was beginning to pain her again, the adrenaline wearing off. She began to walk away from him, back to her men. Tarkin watched her, and then leveraged himself up on his elbows. His expression went from terrified to disdainful in a moment.

 

“Weak, you’re _weak_ , and that is why the Jedi will never win this war. It will take strong men, _men like me_ ,” he ranted at her, but she turned back to look at him, a terrible fury on her face.

 

“You don’t know what strength is, because you don’t know what it’s taking to walk away from you right now, Tarkin. Remember that, you are only alive because I am stronger than my anger and hate for you,” she bit out, voice sharp and harsh.

 

Then she drew a breath and looked to Rex.

 

“Commander, put this filth under guard,” she ordered.

 

“With pleasure, sir,” he said, and he directed two of his men to haul up Tarkin and keep him under watch.

 

“Ahsoka,” she heard someone say, someone not a _vod’e_. She saw, then, Ekria standing in the middle of the squad. The other young woman had her robe over her arm, and held it out ever so slightly. Ahsoka took the robe and shrugged into it, belting it around her middle. She looked at Ekria, who nodded, and then from one of her troopers to the next. They were all 332 nd men here, men she could trust. They saluted as she looked at each of them, and she felt their respect for her shine through.

 

Then she turned to Rex, who saluted as well. She could feel him, like a beacon: _relief, concern, hope, respect… love_.

 

“Awaiting your orders, General,” he said.

 

“Let’s get the hell out of here, boys,” she said, and lead the squad out of the caves, with only the barest hitch in her step.

 

When they emerged from the caves, and she saw the light of day, she didn’t feel clean. She knew it would be a long time before she felt like herself again, and she wondered how long it would take to let go of the hate that had taken root in her heart.


	7. Fearing the Empty Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quasi-safe, dealing with some immediate emotional aftermath.

The collection and capture of the human staff on Moriband had gone smoothly after it was known Tarkin had been taken in hand. The 327th Star Corps had mostly handled it, if only because Wolffe had been advocating for killing them all as traitors to the Republic, and Rex had calmly but firmly said that the 332nd was occupied with ensuring the safety of their general.

 

Ahsoka did her best to tune it all out. She knew all the prisoners would be loaded up on the _Adamant_ , to be tried in a military tribunal, even Tarkin. Tried in the very tribunal he had tried to destroy her with, not so long ago.

 

Aayla and Plo would have to leave soon, to go back to their sectors, after she was cleared through medical, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted them to do so or not. Part of her wanted them to stay, to guide her, to help her find peace again, but another part wanted no one to know what had happened, to see what had been done to her own mind. What had been done to her body was bad enough, but what had happened to her soul was worse. Something dark lurked there now.

 

“General,” Kix said gently, and she sat on the exam table, Ekria’s robe still wrapped around her. She turned her attention to her CMO, and away from her own thoughts. Erel was there was well, and they were both sitting on stools, looking up at her. “General, if you’re ready, we can begin.”

 

She took a breath and nodded, shrugging out of the robe. Erel didn’t reach out, but gathered up a datapadd and rolled the stool closer to her.

 

“Ahsoka, I’m going to touch your leg, if that’s alright,” he said, and waited. She nodded, and he examined the cuts on her legs, still healing, and then inspected the leg that had been broken and set. She breathed out through the pain, feeding it all into the Force, doing her best to not hold on to it, to let it go.

 

It was so hard. She wanted to hang on, wanted to wrap a righteous fury around herself and go down to the brig and put her sabers through Tarkin’s head. But something had stopped her on Moriband, and something stopped her now.

 

“I know it hurts, Ahsoka,” Erel said, talking her through the process as he examined her, “but we’ll be done soon, and then we can patch you up, alright? Just hold on, and we’ll have all the evidence we need.” She nodded, and watched as he and Kix examined every cut, every bruise, and every mark on her body. Then Kix looked at her lekku and frowned.

 

“Sir,” Kix said, and Ahsoka wasn’t sure if he was addressing her or Erel, but he went on, “something happened here.” He pointed to some bruising on her lekku, so faint even she couldn’t see it, even though she knew it was there. Erel took one, long look and hissed, eyes going cold.

 

“Pressure bands,” Erel said tightly, and then he looked up at her. “A non-scaring means of control and punishment for species with lekku. Saw them a lot on rescued Twi’lek slaves, when was I doing some work in the Outer Rim. Ahsoka, it doesn’t still hurt does it? You’re not still nauseous?”

 

“No, I’m not. I… I didn’t think I could volunteer information here. You had to gather whatever evidence you found,” she said, trying to find the strength to keep her voice steady. Her emotions had been swinging wildly since she had returned to the _Adamant_ , and she had kept her connection with the Force to only a narrow band. In part, it kept her from giving away how much she hurt to the other Jedi, but it also prevented her from having to feel any of the pity she knew her men felt for her. It was in their eyes, their tones, their hesitation around her.

 

Erel carefully put down the datapadd and looked her in the eye. It wasn’t confrontational, or pitying. But then, he had been a doctor, a surgeon. He had seen worse.

 

“Ahsoka, you can tell us what happened to you. It will help us get through this examination quicker. I don’t know how difficult this is for you, but I’ve helped many people through the aftermath of trauma. Closing down, cutting yourself off, it doesn’t work,” he said gently, and she knew the truth of it. In her head, she new the truth, but something in her heart seized at the idea of people knowing about it. It was one thing to righteously march away from Tarkin in the caves, but now, under the cold, medical lights her reserve faltered.

 

“They’ll know,” she said, eyes sliding away. She caught Kix’s gaze briefly, his eyes full of concern, but how could she tell the difference between that and pity?

 

“For what its worth, Ahsoka, you are underage still,” Erel said. “Which means that these records will be sealed after being looked over by a closed door tribunal. Any and all attempts by Tarkin or his advocate to bring up any of the details you disclose to me or Kix here, will be shut down under the juvenile protection acts that are, thankfully, still in place.”

 

She looked at him, from him to Kix, and she opened herself more to the Force, just a touch. They were angry, both of them, but underneath that she didn’t find any pity. She found a deep, abiding concern, a care for her that was almost familial.

 

“I can’t… I don’t think I can talk about what he asked me to talk about, but I can tell you that he put sonic scramblers on my montrals. He hit me a lot in the ribs. He cut off my top, and the cuts on my legs are where he cut off my pants,” she listed carefully, doing her best to let the Force take the burden of her hurt.

  
“General…” Kix said, reaching for her shoulder, and then stopped himself. She watched his hand draw away, curling into a fist, and she narrowed her eyes.

 

“Kix, its okay. You can touch me, I don’t want… I don’t want this to take my _vod’e_ from me,” she said, looking into his warm brown eyes. Giving her the barest of smiles, he set his hand lightly on her shoulder.

 

“You aren’t going to lose us, General,” Kix assured her, and she could sense that he believed it, at least. “You’re our _jetti_.”

 

“Thank you, Kix. And thank you, Erel, I… thank you,” she said, sitting upright and bracing herself for the rest of the exam. “Let’s get this over with.”

 

“As you say, General,” Kix said, ducking his head respectfully, and attending on Erel’s exam of her various wounds. It was painful, and at times her breathing turned shallow. But every time that happened, they stopped and let her regain her control. And they always asked, always told her exactly what was about to happen.

 

Although she knew she should take their behavior at face value, that they cared for her and did not see her as something soiled and wrong, a shard of darkness remained lodged in her heart. Something deeper than the physical pain she had endured, and she doubted a doctor could remove it.

 

* * *

 

“Commander, we got a situation.”

 

Rex turned to see Thorn, one of the lieutenants out of Kamino rather than the 501st, striding up to him. He had proven to be a solid man in the field, with a decent head for tactics, though he still deferred to men from the 501st, which made him hesitate more than he should.

 

“What is it, Thorn?” Rex asked, not wanting anything remotely like a _situation_ right now. Kix and the admiral were examining the general, so that meant Rex was nominally in charge of everything on this ship at the moment. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a situation. All he wanted to do was see his general out of medical and to… what, he didn’t know. He didn’t know how to help her with this. Could he hug her still, or was she even able to handle close proximity now? Or had whatever complications that had risen between them ruined any chance of them being friends still? Too many unanswered questions, personal questions he wasn’t supposed to ask, crowded his mind.

 

“Its Hammer, sir,” Thorn began, and started leading the way to the brig, and Rex didn’t need the rest of the explanation.

 

“Let’s get there quick then, before he does something I’ll regret,” Rex said tersely, and they speed to the brig, where Rex found Hammer trying to get past the men on guard duty.

 

“Look, just a little time alone with him, you don’t have to do anything. Just… go on break for a bit,” Hammer was patiently explaining to the man, a shiny Rex had not gotten to know yet, but whom Jesse said was a good one. There were several other brothers behind Hammer, all good men from the 501st. Men who loved their general as one of their own.

 

“But sir, I’m under strict orders to…”

 

“That’s right, you are soldier,” Rex said, stepping into Hammer’s line of sight. “And you’re doing a damn fine job of it.”

 

“Rex, _vod_ ,” Hammer began, not ashamed in the slightest for what he was about to do. Rex saw Jesse rounding the corner, likely having been alerted by a signal from the guard.

 

“ _Commander_ ,” Rex stressed, eyes narrowed, and Hammer straightened sharply. He loved his brothers, but sometimes he had to remind them that there was a chain of command.

 

“Fine, _Commander_ ,” Hammer said, throwing the title down like a challenge. “She’s a Jedi, so she couldn’t finish the job. Not with him being unarmed and at her mercy, like we heard about. Hell, she’s the best kind of Jedi for how she handled it. But we’re not Jedi, _sir_ , and we do what they can’t. You even said that once, to all of us. We do what they can’t. So. That’s what we’re going to do now.”

 

Hammer was standing his ground. A born sergeant if there ever was one, but also a belligerent asshole at times. The men behind him, however, had noticed Jesse, and noticed that they were currently in the middle of two of the most accomplished men in the whole battalion. There was a shift, as the other men slowly distanced themselves from the situation.

 

Rex clenched his fists, not lying to himself about his own desire to kill the man they currently held prisoner. But it wasn’t his call. That call had already been made, and he wouldn’t overturn it for anything.

 

“She was going to kill him, you know,” Rex said, his voice quiet but not soft. Hammer froze under his gaze. “She was going to take his head clean off. But she didn’t. She stopped herself, Hammer. She made her choice, there in that cave, and not you, not me, not anyone on this ship, in the GAR or, damn it, in the Order itself are going to disrespect her by not honoring her choice.”

 

“But I…” Hammer started, and looked over his shoulder to see that his support was sidling away.

 

“No, _vod_ , no buts,” Rex said. “You wanted vengeance, plain and simple. And not for her, so don’t kid yourself. You want to kill him cause _you’re_ angry, not because this is justice. This isn’t about you, trooper. This isn’t about any of us.” Rex looked from one brother to the next, impressing on them the truth of the matter. He would be lying to say that he had had the same thought, the same inclination as Hammer, but he put that all aside the second he had seen her again. Seen her choose to show mercy and fight her own righteous anger to do what was right. Seen her be, once again, the young woman who had earned his loyalty and respect a hundred times over.

 

His brothers stood to attention under his scrutiny, all save Jesse who watched him carefully. Then Rex sighed and waved his hand.

 

“Get out of my sight, all of you,” he said to Hammer and the men who had followed him down here. They left quickly, but Rex didn’t watch them go. He turned to the guard.

 

“What’s your name, _vod_?” he asked, feeling very tired all of a sudden.

 

“Wiley, sir,” the man said, and saluted.

 

“Well done, Wiley. I’ll be putting a commendation in your file,” Rex told the man, who drew himself up with pride. Then he looked to Thorn. “The both of you, you did the right thing. Thorn, keep an eye on Hammer for me, and see that word of this spreads. No one countermands the general’s choice. Make that clear.”

 

“Sir, yes, sir,” Thorn said, and marched off. Jesse drew even with Rex, and walked beside him as they left the brig behind.

 

“Thorn’s good,” Rex ventured, and watched Jesse’s reaction. They had been looking for another captain to take over for Tup, but so far they hadn’t actually discussed anything. It had all felt wrong and too soon. Might have been different if he had fallen in battle, but Jesse nodded.

 

“Solid man, would do the shinies good to see someone not from the 501st in the command team,” Jesse agreed, and they lapsed into silence again. They passed troopers and navy personnel, and Rex knew something was on Jesse’s mind when the man followed him all the way back to his office.

 

The door closed behind them, and Rex leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. Jesse sat in one of the chairs and kicked his legs up on the desk, his hands clasped in his lap.

 

“What’s on your mind, Jesse?” Rex asked, trying to ignore the sense of growing unease in his own heart.

 

“You done being a commander, Rex?” Jesse asked in return, and Rex gestured for his brother to go on. Jesse settled back into the chair and looked at his brother. “Good, cause you talk a good game in front of the men, and that’s important, but it won’t mean anything if you aren’t there for her, _vod_. Don’t glare at me, Rex, ain’t gonna work, we’ve been through too much together. I don’t know what’s been going on between the two of you, but she needs you now, she needs all of us, so don’t let that get in the way of helping her.”

 

“Jesse, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rex said evenly, keeping his expression neutral as possible. Jesse snorted.

 

“Kix pointed it out to me, and you want to say that _Kix_ has been reading anyone wrong?” Jesse challenged. “Look, whatever it is, that doesn’t matter now. She needs us, like how we needed her after Umbara. Whatever she went through, we gotta put our own pain or feelings aside and help her deal. The Jedi will help her too, but we’re her clan, and clan sticks together. No matter what.”

 

Rex closed his eyes and breathed out sharply. His whole body went tense, because he knew Jesse was right. Like Fives, Jesse could see to the heart of things, once he had been pointed in the right direction. Rex tried not to think of Fives, who was stars knew where, but that didn’t change the fact that Jesse was right.

 

“Wasn’t going to not be there,” Rex clarified as he opened his eyes. “I’m just not sure if I should be, or if she’d tolerate me. We had a bit of a dust up, before… _this_. Shouldn’t have let it happen, shouldn’t have let some things get in the way of the job, but…”

 

Jesse swung his legs down from the desk and leaned forward, grasping Rex on the forearm.

 

“Life happens, _vod_ , and none of us are immune. Not even you,” Jesse said, Rex snorted by way of acknowledgement of that truth. “Look, you need to hit something, let me know. We can go a few rounds, show the shinies what a real fight looks like, blow off some steam. But when it comes to the general…”

 

“She comes first,” Rex finished for him, and Jesse nodded. Rex returned his brother’s grip, as they both stood. After Jesse left, Rex knew that the road ahead was complicated and rough and would be all kinds of uncomfortable for him, no matter how things turned out. But if there was anyone in the galaxy worth walking that road for, it would be Ahsoka Tano.

 

* * *

 

Aayla and Plo were back on the _Adamant,_ their Padawans and Commanders in tow. They were back in the briefing room, and Ahsoka had found a set of clean clothes to wear. It made her feel marginally better to have her own clothes back and her sabers at her hips, though if she thought about it, the crystals in her sabers seemed out of tune.

 

That was a problem for another time.

 

The command staff of the 332nd was there, including the new men, Thorn and Jarek, who Rex and Jesse were trying out. Erel was there, as she had called this meeting only scant minutes after being cleared for duty. When she had called the meeting, everyone had showed up promptly and been professional, and she tried to tell herself that she had nothing to worry about. Maybe if she kept telling herself that enough, it would become true.

 

“Thank you, everyone, for all you have done,” she began, and with the respectful nods, she sat a little straighter. “With your help, we seem to have apprehended a radical splinter group in the Republic, intent on running a witch-hunt for supposed traitors to the Republic. Aayla, I see your strike team also managed to get into the cave system and recover vital data as well as evidence of a larger prison area, not just the cell I was kept in.”

 

“It seemed prudent,” Aayla said, her words belying a deep horror for what she had found. Ahsoka again reminded herself that the horror wasn’t directed at _her_ , but those who had hurt her.

 

“It also seems prudent that we offer you some extra assistance as you travel back to Coruscant with your brig full of dangerous criminals. I have no doubt about the vigilance of your men, Ahsoka,” the Twi’lek woman said, “but we must show that you have the support of the full Order in this.”

 

“I agree. That is why we have asked our Padawans to stay on board, temporarily attached to the 332nd, to personally carry our reports back to the Order and to testify as to what we witnessed,” Plo said, and Ahsoka drew in a breath, desperately hoping that no one noticed how she nearly shook with relief.

 

She was Temple raised from the age of three and she could read between the lines. They cared. They didn’t want her to be alone. And they believed her. They believed what she had been through. The truth of what Tarkin had been after still stuck in her throat, but this was an opening, an invitation to speak when she was ready.

 

“Thank you,” she said, once she felt her voice was steady.

 

“You are more than welcome, my little ‘Soka,” Plo said, his care for her a spot of warmth in the Force. No one looked sideways at him, or her, at this obvious statement of affection, and she had to look away. It was love, she knew. It should have been a balm for her soul.

 

Instead, she could only feel unworthy in the face of their care.

 

* * *

 

They had a forty-eight hour trip back to Coruscant from Moriband, even using hyperspace lanes. It was a long way away from the galactic core, and they only had so much fuel after chasing after her. If they burned too hot, they could end up stuck, so they were trying to cut the middle on fuel consumption without having to stop at a resupply depo, which were often prime ambush targets.

  
One ambush and rescue operation per standard week was more than enough for anyone on board the _Adamant_.

 

But that left Ahsoka with two days of near idle time. Two days when Tarkin was on board, somewhere in the brig, stewing and simmering. She thought she could feel him down there, a ball of madness and hate and dark desire, all of it directed at her. It was worse, now, as she tried to sleep after the long day of rescue, medical exam, and final debrief.

 

She had smiled when Ekria and Tai had summarily shown up in her quarters with their gear and sleeping pads, clearly intent on camping out with her.

 

“It’ll be like when we were younglings, in the crèche,” Ekria had said, and Ahsoka had smiled.

 

“But neither of you are touching my hair, thank you,” Tai had told them. “I don’t think either of you would be much good at it.”

 

“Just because I don’t have hair, Tai, that’s speciesist,” Ahsoka had teased, and they had laughed without any shadows behind their eyes, and the two other young women had fallen asleep to dream the dreams of the untroubled.

 

Ahsoka stared up into the dark ceiling and wondered how she could be expected to sleep at all.

 

She had been so tired, hanging suspended in those energy beams. All she had wanted to do at times was sleep. But now, when she had a bed, and blankets, and even the soft breathing of friends to let her know she wasn’t alone, her mind couldn’t turn off.

 

On silent feet, she got up and left her room, not bothering to wear her boots. At the door, she looked back at her friends, sleeping soundly, and thought about waking them. Talking to them, as the offer was clear. But she wasn’t ready. Not yet.

 

There was something she had to know first.

 

* * *

 

Rex hadn’t been sure what to expect. Ahsoka had handled the briefing well, but had been quiet afterwards, simply going to her quarters. She hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t pushed. No one had pushed, except for Ekria and Tai. He had smiled to see them barge their way in and be there for his general, but he wasn’t sure if that would be the end of it.

 

When he looked up from his spot in the mess hall where he nursed a cup of _caf_ over his final mission report, he saw his general padding along the corridor without boots, proving that his suspicions had been correct. He caught up with her easily, and she turned around as he did, hugging her arms around her middle for a moment before drawing herself up and trying to look more authoritative than she likely felt right now.

 

“Commander,” she said, and he stopped mid stride. It was like he had been hit with a duracrete brick. They were back on titles now, and it stung.

 

“Ahsoka,” he tried, and she twitched away from him a little. She had been like that, ever since they had recovered her. Swinging from confidence to trepidation, from anger to sorrow, and trying desperately to stand in the middle of all of it.

 

“Ahsoka, I’m here for you, as your friend. Please, don’t… don’t try to do this alone. You don’t have to shut me out,” he tried, and she looked him full in the face then, chin high and blue eyes full of anger.

 

“So you want to talk now?” she asked sharply. “You want to talk when it’s not about your feelings. You want to decide that you can be in my life whenever its convenient for you, but never mind that you did your level best to keep me out of yours not a few days ago.”

 

“What life, Ahsoka? What life has a trooper really got?” he shot back at her. He knew it was wrong the second he said it. She was hurting, but she had touched his own sore spot in all of this and it was all too much for him to keep contained as he usually did. Just as she was about to retort, he held up his hands and bowed his head, his words to Jesse echoing in his head: _She comes first_.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t,” he started to say, and then let his hands fall to his sides. He didn’t know if he could look at her, so he didn’t. Instead, he hoped she could sense how he felt, how he knew he had said the wrong thing, how he had only ever wanted to help her, to be the best Jedi she could be, the Jedi he knew she already was.

 

“I know,” she said, and he looked up to see her only half a meter away, her hand half reached out to him between them. But she let her hand fall away. Half a meter, and still so far apart.

 

“So, were you hunting up some _caf_ , cause you missed the mess hall,” he said, retreating back to familiar territory. “Or maybe some nerf steak. Think we still got some, pre-cooked, unfortunately.” She gave him the barest smile, but it was gone too soon as she shook her head.

 

“I was…” she hesitated, breathed, and looked at him intently. It was a long moment, as he watched her mentally weigh up her options. “I was going to see _him_. Tarkin. To figure out why he did what he did, I suppose. How he ended up like that. So lost in his own head, so full of anger and hate. So many people who start out with good intentions are becoming twisted, and… I need to know how. Know why.” He watched her talk, and he felt his stomach sink to around the level of his feet. But what she was going through was clearly worse, as her breathing speed up, a sure sign of post-traumatic anxiety, from what Kix had told him.

 

He paused a moment, trying to figure out how to handle this, and thought about what he’d said to the troopers, what Jesse had told him, how Generals Secura and Koon had supported her.

 

“Can’t say I think it’s a good idea,” he said, hating the idea of watching what was likely going to be, essentially, a complete shipwreck. But it wasn’t about him. “But if you think its what you need, how about you not do it alone?”

 

Though the last place he wanted to be was near Tarkin, at least without a good blaster to hand, it might be worth it to see a little light come back into her eyes. He hoped she was starting to actually believe she wasn’t alone.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka wasn’t sure what she had been expecting from Tarkin. Remorse maybe, a growing realization that he had done something wrong, anything, even sullen silence would have been better than he had said. She had even taken a risk and opened herself up fully to the Force, to try to understand him better.

 

He was mad.

 

Twisted in on himself, though she thought she felt or sensed, just on the edge of knowing, a thread connecting Tarkin to something or someone else. As she reached out for it, she felt something in herself reach as well, not in the usual sense of the Force, but something… else. Something with wings, which made no sense at all to her. It was enough to break her concentration. Everything fell away from her, and Tarkin continued to rant.

 

The rant had turned graphic, and she could feel Rex’s profound anger at the man, and she thought that they had both had enough. Understanding would continue to elude her, as to why this was happening. Why what had once been virtues became vices, because even she could admit that Tarkin had been loyal to the Republic, almost to a fault.

 

It all just made her feel even more unclean, but having Rex there, at her side, at her back. It had made the whole thing a lot more bearable. Though she desperately wanted to scrub herself all over with hot water and caustic soap.

 

Again.

 

Because she feared what had happened to Barriss, had happened to Tarkin, that she was infected somehow. That with the darkness that had lodged inside her, it was her turn next to fall. To turn into something she had once fought against. And she knew, as all Jedi had been taught, to be touched by darkness was never to be clean and in the light ever again.

 

They were walking side-by-side back up through the brig and into the main corridors of the ship in silence. Part of her wanted to reach out to Rex, and wished for a time when that had been easy. Not long ago, when they had been in a safe house on one of Coruscant’s lower levels, she had cried as he held her, cried for stress and loss. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it now.

 

Maybe it was that she was a general, or that something had come between them after Tup’s death. Or that he saw her differently now, irrevocably altered by what she had been through at the hands of Tarkin. She doubted he would see it that way himself, but it was possible.

 

 _Weak, fragile, broken, dirty_ , the thoughts came, and she tried to shove them away. To shove them down so no one, not even herself, could see or hear them. It was going to be a long walk back to her quarters, if he was going to walk back with her.

 

Then Tai and Ekria appeared around the corner.

 

“There you are!” Ekria said, relief plain her voice. She took Ahsoka gently by the hand, and drew even with her. Tai, not nearly as physically affectionate as Ekria, still looped her arm around Ahsoka’s other one. Flanked by the two Padawans now, Ahsoka tired to feel like she was cared for, instead of trapped.

 

“Ekria was super worried about you,” Tai said, and then shrugged. “And I was, too, if you need to know.” Ahsoka knew everyone around her cared. She _knew_ that no one thought less of her. That they still loved her, even, in their ways. But somehow that kept failing to translate into acceptance.

 

“What were you up to anyway?” Ekria asked.

 

“And why didn’t you bring your boots? I know Togurta go around barefoot, but these floors have to be cold on your feet,” Tai said.

 

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” Ahsoka evaded, “And I didn’t want to wake either of you. Besides, I was only with Rex.” Which was somewhat true. She saw the look Tai and Ekria gave each other, than the frown they threw in Rex’s direction.

 

Rex maintained his blank expression.

 

“Just thought she could use the company on a midnight wander,” he said, and it was clear that no one believed anyone at the moment.

 

Too much evasion, she knew. No reason to lie, she thought. Except it happened before she could stop it. She wondered, desperately, if that was how it would begin for her, her Fall.

 

* * *

 

Ekria was worried. Very, very worried. She had Tai had been temporarily attached to the 332nd to help Ahsoka heal, but they weren’t getting anywhere. They had just eaten breakfast, and Ahsoka had disappeared again. No one, not even _Rex_ knew where she was.

 

Rex had frowned, typed a few things, read something, and then frowned again. Then walked off without saying anything! Ekria wasn’t sure what was going on, but she was fairly certain it wasn’t anything good. Tai wasn’t much help either.

 

She eyed her fellow Padawan, only a year younger than herself, brash and blundering sometimes. But Ekria knew Tai cared a great deal, just all of it was underneath several layers of sarcasm.

 

“Well, you’re so worried, what can we do?” Tai asked sharply, as they sat in a meeting room turned their personal shared study.

 

“Our masters instructed us to follow our instincts, to help her find her way back to herself,” Ekria said through clenched teeth, trying not to lose her temper Tai.

 

“Oh, cause your instincts are so good for this,” Tai drawled sarcastically, clearly sensing Ekria’s own frustration.

 

“Right, cause you’re so good with people, too!” Ekrai exclaimed, slamming her hand down on the table, making Tai narrow her eyes. Then they both looked away and breathed out.

 

“Not helping anyone, us like this,” Tai said, which was the closest she would get to an apology.

 

“Agreed,” Ekria said. “We need help.”

 

“Who?” Tai pressed. “Who would be able to help us? The admiral? The troopers? Like Rex, and Jesse, and Kix?” Ekria shook her head.

 

“The admiral was a surgeon, I found out, but not a mind-healer. And the troopers, even ones that have known her for a while might just go along with what she wants,” Ekria said, clearly worried. The men were good men, and she liked them. The men of the 332nd had been part of her learning to trust her own skills again, but Rex had been close-mouthed even for him when they had found Ahsoka last night.

 

“Is there anyone in the Order we could contact?” Tai asked, and then they both looked at each other, eyes wide.

 

“Not Skywalker,” they said simultaneously. Neither of them needed to say that would be a disaster for painfully obvious reasons. Skywalker was protective about and clearly cared for Ahsoka. But they had heard stories.

 

Ekria held her head in her hands. Then she realized who they needed to contact. Who knew Ahsoka well enough, and had an undeniable depth and wealth of wisdom.

 

* * *

 

The comm channel dinged, and Hook frowned. It was on General Ti’s personal, private channel, which was not widely circulated, but that often indicated a vital need. However, she had left strict instructions to not be disturbed for trivial matters. The current negotiations were delicate, he knew.

 

Sighing, he answered.

 

And saw two young women looking back at him. One girl had pale skin and blue hair, while the other was darker skinned, and had thick, black hair with gold clips in it.

 

“Who the hell are you? Where’s Master Ti?” the darker girl asked, and Hook frowned.

 

“The _General_ is busy in delicate negotiations. And I’m Hook, her personal aide,” he answered, narrowing his eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

 

“Tai!” the blue hair girl exclaimed, then turned back to the camera. “I’m Ekria, that’s Tai, but we aren’t calling for ourselves. We’re calling about Ahsoka Tano, and it’s really important that we speak to Master Ti. Please, Hook. She needs help. She’s not… she _needs_ help.”

 

Hook hesitated.

 

“Look, sorry I snapped at you. But we’re in a really bad situation here, Ahsoka’s in a bad situation, and maybe I’ve been hanging out with Wolffe too much,” Tai said, and Hook sighed.

 

“Give me a minute,” he said. He really hoped the general wouldn’t be angry with him for this.

 

* * *

 

Shaak Ti sat in a comfortable chair with a generous glass of _nar’him_ in hand. Across from her was the Dragon of Corellia, one Draq’ Bel Iblis, the current head of CorSec, and an old friend. Someone she could trust, and who was outside of the Senate but no fan of the Separatists either.

 

Someone who owed her a favor.

 

The other being in the room was new to her, however. A beautiful Zeltron, though they were all beautiful, with crimson skin and purple eyes. And although the CorSec Inspector before her looked all business, Shaak thought she detected a heated smile in the woman’s eyes.

 

“Master Ti,” Draq’ said in his rich voice. “This is Inspector Faygan, and not only is she one of the best Inspectors in CorSec, she actually manages to be discrete from time to time.”

 

“Thanks, sir,” the woman said laconically, and although they teased each other, Shaak thought she could detect real affection between the two, affection and respect. The Jedi Master smiled.

 

“It will be a highly delicate operation, and we will have to work closely together,” Shaak warned. “Often, working with a Jedi can be frustrating for those not used to us. We tend to give orders that might not make sense immediately, but there is always a reason behind them.” The Inspector considered this for a long moment, though Shaak rather thought the woman was considering _her_ as well.

 

“I can handle it. My boss here likes to give cryptic orders now and again, to see if we’re on our toes. Starting to think he picked up that bad habit from elsewhere,” she drawled, which made Draq’ snort indignantly. Shaak found herself smiling.

 

 _Oh yes,_ she thought, _you’ll do nicely._

 

Then there was a knock on the door bare moments before Hook let himself in. He felt so worried to her Force senses that she simply stood and went to him with the barest “excuse me” given to her host.

 

“Hook, what is it, _ad_?” she asked softly. He looked uncomfortable, but pressed ahead.

 

“It’s about General Tano, sir, some Padwans are calling about her, saying they need your help. They won’t say anything more, but they seem really upset,” he said, and as she did, she felt a chill down her spine. The Force told her all she needed to know: something terrible had happened to her _rui’iell_ , her daughter-of-the-hunt. She turned back to the Dragon of Corellia, a man feared and respected in equal measure throughout the galaxy.

 

“Draq’, I must ask another favor: a secure channel if you could spare one,” she said, and though she kept the serene mask in place, he was a perceptive man. The Zeltron also seemed to sense her distress, and looked at her with such a poignant understanding that Shaak could hardly stand it.

 

“Might I know what it is about?” he asked, though not unkindly.

 

“I think, considering that the subject in question is still underage, I need not disclose,” Shaak answered, and she saw Draq’s blue eyes go flat, flicking to Inspector Faygan ever so briefly.

 

“Then you may, of course, use whatever you need,” he said, rising. “Use my private comm unit, I insist.” She thanked him, and he left the room, the Inspector in tow. There would be time to handle the final details of this particular negotiation later.

 

But right now, Ahsoka Tano needed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draq' and Dani are not mine. They belong to B_Radley, and her amazing ongoing set of series. You should check them out!
> 
> “Togruti” (Tolkien’s Elvish, as always)  
> Nar’him = fire-ale  
> Rui’iell= hunt-daughter


	8. Heavy as Another Man’s Hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty safe, this. Unless you count Anakin angst. >_>

Anakin tried to keep his shoulders back and his steps even as they left the Council chambers. Obi-Wan walked beside them, Ventress trailing behind. He didn’t pay much attention to either of them, he couldn’t. He had been able to keep the dark thoughts at bay while he had been driving and agreeing at the important points of Obi-Wan’s report, but now, now with nothing to occupy his mind, the whispers were harder to ignore.

 

“Anakin, perhaps we could take dinner in my rooms?” Obi-Wan asked gently. Anakin turned his face away.

 

“I think I’d like to be alone right now, if you don’t mind,” Anakin said, trying to keep his tone even, but there was a sharpness on the end he couldn’t stop. He took a breath, squared his shoulders and looked at his former Master. “Thank you for the offer, Obi-Wan.”

 

“Yes, of course, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, reaching his hand out slightly but then clasping his hands together. “Be well, and know that I am here.”

 

Anakin didn’t trust himself to answer, so he nodded once and then walked away, back to his chambers. Obi-Wan watched his former apprentice leave, and wished that chasing after Anakin would actually help. But Obi-Wan remembered Mortis. Remembered the last time Anakin had encountered a font of the dark side. He hoped this would not be a repeat of that place, would not see Anakin Fall.

 

Still torn, Obi-Wan sighed.

 

“He is not well,” Asajj said, and Obi-Wan turned to her, glad that she at least refrained from commenting while Anakin was still with them.

 

“No, he is not,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. “Though he seems to be maintaining some level of control.” Asajj huffed with distain.

 

“ _Seems_ ,” she said, and shook her head. “He has too much power, Kenobi. Too much to control, perhaps, and he just got a jolt of… well, now he’s overcharged, I believe.” He breathed out sharply through his nose, and before he could stop himself, glared as Asajj. She merely returned the glare, stepping close to him so that when she spoke next it was for his ears alone.

 

“Do not be blinded by your love for him, Kenobi,” she hissed. “The Darkside is the essence of control, and if he cannot control himself, it will control him. Or, perhaps worse, call attention to someone else who can.”

 

He wanted to tell her she was wrong, to tell her that she underestimated Anakin, that his former apprentice had found a new place to stand, had found a new calm. But it seemed like every time Anakin made progress, every time he found a kind of peace, something happened to drag him backward, to upset the precarious balance of the young man’s mind. Stroking his beard, Obi-Wan sighed, refusing to comment.

 

Then Asajj surprised him by laying a hand on his shoulder.

 

“There is no helping someone who does not wish to be helped. I should know,” she said dryly, and in spite of himself he snorted with wry amusement.

 

“Come, the corridor is no place to speak of this,” he said, “and perhaps if he will not accept help from me, there is another.”

 

* * *

 

Anakin felt the pressure of the Temple around him, crowding and watching. It felt so empty, so lonely compared to when he had been young. Now it was full of the older Jedi who could not be in the field, and those too young. And the Temple Guardians, of course, and…

 

 _They never wanted you here_.

 

He turned, looking for the source of the voice, but seeing only Jedi going about their business. Clenching his fist, he walked on, his stride determined. It was the Temple, the other Temple, speaking to him.

 

 _You will never be good enough for them_.

 

Gritting his teeth, he walked faster to his rooms, the one place he could be by himself. Where he could try to, maybe, just maybe root out the voice that was worming its way deeper into his mind. Vision narrowed to a tunnel, Anakin all but ran to his rooms, the door shutting behind him. He leaned against it, holding his head in his hands trying to shut out the whispers.

 

_They see what you’ve done._

_They don’t see what you could become._

_Holding you back._

_Judging you._

Teeth grinding with effort to not let his mind spiral down into the abyss, he clenched his flesh and blood fist and punched the wall. Again, and again, and again. It hurt, by the stars it hurt, but the pain was real. He had to focus on the pain, because it grounded him. Connected him to reality.

 

Bones ground against each other, and he was fairly certain he was bleeding, but he kept it up until the whispers faded into a susurrus of background noise. Still there, waiting, but no longer actively tempting him. Sitting down heavily on his low couch, he wondered if it had really only been scant hours ago, he had been able to balance his own anger with Obi-Wan’s help. Had been so able to trust his former Master. Now, it was all wrong again. All twisted up and aching.

 

Head in his hands, one metal and one probably broken to some degree, Anakin got his breathing back under control. He recalled reporting to the Council. Obi-Wan had taken the lead on the report, Anakin only claiming that he had found a chamber and apparently initiated a self destruct sequence to allow them time to escape the Sith Lord.

 

It was, in a manner of speaking, actually true.

 

What he hadn’t told them, had held back was that he had been able to control the Temple with that holocron he had found. Anakin had _felt_ the Sith Lord, felt his power and his anger, and worst of all, Anakin had felt the Sith’s intentions. The Sith wanted him, wanted his power for his own. There had been no mistaking that clawing, grasping feeling that he had felt along his very soul, as though the Sith Lord knew how to reach him already.

 

He hadn’t even told Obi-Wan, and he didn’t know if he could tell Padme. There was no way he was telling Ahsoka.

 

Ahsoka.

 

Once, with her around, these rooms had almost felt like a home. Of course, Padme was home, his Angel guiding him back from the war, but Ahsoka had been able to make the Temple feel less like a strange way-station and more like a place he could actually be. For a time, it had almost been like what he had shared with his mother on Tatooine, a little bubble of comfort and familiarity, a small, safe place.

 

It wasn’t that kind of place now.

 

Running his hand down his face, he sighed, and shrugged out of his robes. He would have to have his hand seen to. Of course, there would be questions. Maybe he could go see Padme, could get her to dress it. He would say he was injured on the mission and didn’t want to trouble the Healers. They were stretched fairly thin these days. That reason might work with her.

 

 _Lies. You’re a lair_.

 

“Shut up!” he ground out, eyes narrowing. There was no one there, but he could feel something or someone, just on the edge of his awareness. Maybe it was the Sith Lord, trying to find a way in. They had both used the same holocron, and Sith artifacts had all sorts of nasty tricks and surprises for the unwary.

 

And he had certainly been unwary.

 

Unwary and stupid and over-proud and… _No!_

 

He stood, forcing his mind away from those kinds of thoughts. The thoughts that would lead him on a dark path, where the whispers could find their way into his mind. The problem was, he wasn’t sure how much of it was him, how much of it was the Temple, and how much of it was… someone else.

 

The room was too small, too confined, he had to get out, get some air. He had thought he wanted to be alone, to not be around people, but now he saw that being by himself was dangerous. That just left a question of where to go. He had rebuffed Obi-Wan already, and the idea of going to Padme while he was like this was tempting. But he couldn’t risk her safety, expose her to whatever was going on inside his head.

 

With no firm destination in mind, Anakin gathered up his robes only moments after casting them off and was out the door.

 

He did not see the light blinking on his datapadd, and the message from Rex sat there. Unread.

 

* * *

 

Padme busied herself making tea, knowing that Obi-Wan liked the drink brewed strong. She remembered, from the brief time she posed as a Handmaiden. He had made her tea, once, a simple friendly gesture from a young Jedi Padawan who saw the nerves she had kept under careful wraps as they had fled from her homeworld. Now she felt those nerves again, a terrible fear for Anakin gripping her heart.

 

They had not been able to see each other much, the war keeping him far away, and her duties keeping her busy. That, and she had to spend ample time on various committees, the real purpose of which had to be kept secret. Her informal dinners and conversations were yielding results, but it was slow, careful work to counter the power held by the Chancellor, and her one time mentor.

 

She knew what happened to Anakin when he became too isolated, and now Obi-Wan was here, sans his current ward thankfully, and she dreaded what he was about to tell her.

 

Hence, tea.

 

But tea only took so long to prepare. With no other choice, she gathered up the tray and brought it into the living area and set it on the table in front of the comfortable low-backed chairs. Obi-Wan sat, apparently at ease, and took a delicate cup as though he had been born to taking tea with Senators. Then again, in a way, he had.

 

Since there was no point in further delay, she sat and took up her own cup, schooling her emotions and her face into calmness. Likely, any Jedi would notice her inner turmoil, but Obi-Wan was too polite to point it out to her.

 

“What brings you here, Obi-Wan?” she asked, dispensing with formality and cutting to the heart of the matter.

 

“I believe you know, to some degree already, Padme,” he said, eschewing her title, following her lead. “Anakin faced a great danger, here on Coruscant, and while I cannot give you all the information as a matter of Jedi security, I can tell you that he is… troubled. Troubled like he was before the war, deeply conflicted and perhaps influenced.”

 

“Influenced?” she asked sharply. “Who could do such a thing?”

 

“Not a who, or perhaps they once were, but not any longer. Anakin was exposed to an ancient source of Dark side energy, and it has brought to the surface problems I thought we had overcome,” Obi-Wan said, and she could see the sadness in his blue eyes, the lost hope that he had been able to help the man he loved as a brother.

 

“He said you had been helping him,” she said softly, and set down her cup. “But what can I do? I can’t help him fight something from the Force.”

 

“You give yourself too little credit, Padme, for how much you help him,” he said, and she knew then that he _knew_. Knew and had not told a soul. But she shook her head.

 

“Sometimes, I think that as well, and other times I worry that he loses his way because of me, that he is torn in too many directions, and that had I the courage to let him go…” she said, her hands curling into fists, nails biting into her palms.

 

“What’s done is done,” he said firmly but not unkindly. “And right now, we must use every tool at our disposal to help him regain his balance. It was pointed out to me that if Anakin cannot control himself, something else will.”

 

“I’m not sure how much help I will be for him. Anakin… I do not think clearly about Anakin sometimes. I know he has done questionable things, though always from a place of good intention, it’s the kind of thinking that I normally can’t stand. The idea that good outcomes can come from questionable actions, that in order to get something someone needs to pay. Yet when I see him, sometimes I still see the innocence and hope he once had, the unshakable faith that there is a right action to take,” she said, aware that she was rambling, but unable to stop herself. Of all the people in the galaxy, Obi-Wan knew as much as she did about Anakin Skywalker, where he had come from and what he had been.

 

And perhaps, what he was still, in his own mind.

 

“The chains we make for ourselves are the hardest ones to break,” she said half to herself. “I wonder if he ever broke his chains.”

 

“If he did not, then the fault is mine,” Obi-Wan said, sorrow lacing his voice. “But we cannot focus on the past, Padme.”

 

“Do you wish me to seek him out?” she asked, unsure if that was a good idea, and luckily Obi-Wan shook his head.

 

“No, I think that would likely set off whatever alarms are operating inside of his head at the moment. Rather, if he comes here, do your best to keep him calm, but be aware that he is not entirely himself,” Obi-Wan told her, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Whatever happens, Padme, know that I will not… I mean, I do not wish you cause you or him undue…”

 

“I know, Obi-Wan, and thank you,” she said truthfully. “You have been a great friend to me, and all but a father to Anakin. I could see that from the moment I met him again. He talked about you a great deal, did you know that? One moment complaining that you didn’t take him seriously enough, and then the next praising you for being the kind of man he wanted to be.”

 

Obi-Wan blinked and looked away, and if Padme didn’t know any better, she would have sworn the Jedi Master was fighting tears. Or maybe she didn’t know better, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, a man who had become nearly unflappable in the face of war, intrigue, and loss, was crying.

 

He took a deep breath and turned back to her, his eyes shining.

 

“He is lucky to have you,” he said, and then stood. “I merely wanted to keep you apprised of the situation, and I hope that should you need me, you will call.”

 

“Of course,” she said, standing even as he departed. His hand was on the door, and she could see that he was tired. So very tired. It was in the set of his shoulders, the lack of spark in his eyes, and the sorrow in his voice. “He’s lucky to have you, too. For all that you have had difficulties, you have loved him longer than I have, and that counts for something Obi-Wan.”

 

He half turned back to her, his expression unreadable, but he gave her a little smile.

 

“I certainly hope you are correct, Senator,” he said, retreating into formality, and then he was gone. She followed him out of her private rooms and watched him walk down the hallway to the lift. Captain Typho was beside her in an instant, giving her a thoughtful look.

 

“My lady, I know that expression,” Gregar said evenly, “I suppose I should clear out the main areas?”

 

“Yes, if you would, Captain,” she told him, and then looked up at him, and really looked at him. He was a background feature of her life, though that did not mean she thought little of him or did not respect him. In fact, the opposite was true. He was a good, kind man, who took his duties seriously, and performed them admirably, considering how often she was the target of highly specialized kinds of attacks.

 

“Captain. Gregar,” she said, the use of his first name making his attention on her sharp. “Thank you, for all that you have done for me. And my family.”

 

He nodded, and she could see that he knew. Had likely known, and like Obi-Wan had kept quiet. How many people left them to whatever peace they could find? How many people saw and let be?

 

How many people saw and filed it away for later?

 

She took a breath, trying to find a calm center that felt far away, and then got back to work. If Anakin arrived, she would do her best to help him, as she always had, but she had to admit to herself that her best might not be good enough. That for all that she loved Anakin, her love alone could not save him, as much as she might have thought otherwise once.

 

* * *

 

Asajj Ventress was in the depths of the Jedi Temple, practicing in one of the salles. She prided herself on her skills, and she had proper reason to keep them sharp. Yes, she had been injured, but the Halls of Healing had seen her straight, even if Jedi Healing was foreign to her Nightsister ways. It was strange, to be taken in by the Jedi, after a fashion. She was not one of them, certainly. But neither was she treated as a complete pariah.

 

Likely, that was Kenobi’s influence.

 

A shame that influence did not properly work on the boy.

 

Her lips twisting with frustration, she destroyed another target as she leapt from platform to platform, keeping to the shadows. The boy could not see what he had, always what he lacked. She understood that world view, because she had lived it for so long. It made her wonder what was in the boy’s life that had caused him to see the failures and never the successes, the let downs instead of those who were ready to help him.

 

Anakin Skywalker had everything Asajj Ventress had ever wanted, and he ran from it. Afraid. If he didn’t annoy her on his own merits, that would have been enough to make her dislike him.

 

But then, Kenobi still cared about him, so she had tried to help. Tried to warn Obi-Wan about the danger the boy posed. She could see the signs, the power and temptation of a Sith holocron was not to be ignored or hidden. Distracted by her own thoughts, she let the next blaster bolt from the remote get too close, and she growled as she slashed it in half as she jumped, tucking herself into a neat ball and landing lightly on her feet.

 

To see Mace Windu arrive.

 

She drew herself up and sauntered to where she kept some water and set her blades aside. He watched her impassively, and she knew what he wanted.

 

“You were quiet during Obi-Wan’s report,” Windu said, stating the obvious. She raised an eyebrow at him, but stayed silent. Obi-Wan had said that he would protect the boy, and it was clear to her that she should as well, if only for Obi-Wan’s sake. Windu clasped his hands in front of him and tilted his head to the side, considering her.

 

“Any information you have about Sith Temples in general would be most helpful, in trying to understand how they are used, as well as how a Sith Lord could use them for his own ends,” Windu told her, and there it was. More information was what he wanted.

 

Letting a smile slowly grace her features, she picked up her sabers and holstered them at her side. Then she stepped closer to him, letting her hips sway.

 

“What else would you like to know?” she asked archly, hoping to make him retreat. Not all Jedi were like Obi-Wan, able to flirt and banter with ease, even if there was nothing behind it. Perhaps this would make the uptight Jedi run away.

 

“I would like to know what really happened in that Temple,” he said, apparently unperturbed that she was pressed close to him. Rolling her eyes and snorting in disgust at the iron will of Mace Windu, she shook her head and backed away.

 

“I didn’t see much. I saw the boy draw away the guardian, and then as we tried to find him, the Sith Lord appeared. Kenobi and I fought him, and no, I do not know who he is before you ask that question. I only saw him occasionally, as he spoke to my former Master,” she said, impressed that she managed to talk about Dooku without immediately wanting to destroy something.

 

Perhaps she was going soft. Or, perhaps, Kenobi was right and it took more strength to let go.

 

Then she was surprised again as Mace Windu, paragon of the Jedi Order closed his eyes and sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. It was only a moment, but she would never forget that look of tiredness, of being _lost_. It was as shocking to her as anything else she had ever seen.

 

“Lady Ventress, I know that you are among us not entirely of your own volition, but any aid you could provide would be helpful. The future is clouded, too much in flux. The information we have, the better,” he said, his dark eyes intent but not demanding. This his eyes became almost soft as he switched tactics.

 

“I know you have no reason to be fond of the Jedi. I looked into you when you first appeared in the war, and found nothing. However, when Obi-Wan pushed your pardon through, I did some more digging, and I found a message from Ky Narec about you,” he said, voice soft, and she sucked in a breath and went completely still. It was go still or rage, and she knew that the latter would not end well here. “He was proud of you, and in return the Order failed you both.”

 

She met his gaze, trying to see behind his eyes, to let him see the pain she carried with her still. He returned her look, and she saw that he was exactly as he seemed. A rare thing.

 

“I can tell you that the Sith Lord wants the boy,” she said, getting herself back under control. “I was able to overhear some of the conversations he had with Dooku. Dooku, of course, finds the boy too unwieldy, but he must obey his Master. The Sith Lord is fixed on him, for his power, and what he supposedly is, if you’re tempted by fallacy of prophecy.”

 

“Then attempting to kill Obi-Wan in the Temple was not simply trying to eliminate a Jedi, but to kill someone who could be a stabilizing influence on Skywalker,” Mace concluded. Then his expression turned dark. “And being the Sith Temple, it could have been used as a conduit to influence him as well.”

 

Asajj said nothing, but let him come to his own conclusions. She could at least say that she did not give the game away herself. His eyes flicked back to her, and he bowed his head slightly.

 

“Thank you, Lady Ventress, for your insight into this matter. I will keep you appraised, if you wish,” he said, and then paused thoughtfully. “And perhaps, if you have the time, you would benefit from learning the vaapad.”

 

“Perhaps,” she allowed, and watched him leave, her thoughts circling on how strange it was to see this side of the Jedi. To see them as people, not merely the faceless enemy that had let her rot all those years ago.

 

She didn’t think she liked it, but the Sith were worse, she could see that now. The Darkside, the Lightside, they were whatever they were. But the _Sith_ only craved power and control, and Asajj, sold into slavery and twisted for Dooku’s ends only ever wanted to be free.

 

And she knew the path to her freedom was to, for now, help the Jedi fight their ancient enemy with everything that she had.

 

* * *

 

Anakin had wandered Coruscant, but once again found himself in Padme’s apartments. It was always where he always ended up when he needed to find peace. Padme was where he found peace, where he was able to feel loved. Not because he was the Chosen One, or a Jedi, or anything, but because he was _Anakin_.

 

Security was more pronounced these days, but he knew the routines that Captain Typho put in place. Anakin liked the Captain, because the man did his level best to protect Padme. Once inside, he found the main rooms were dark, but light spilled from underneath the bedroom door. He moved through the room silently, and opened the door.

 

Padme sat up, reading on her datapadd, but as he entered she looked at him, and in her beautiful dark brown eyes was all the love and understanding in the world. Illuminated by only the soft bedside lights, she looked like the Angel he could feel her to be in the Force. She was so _good_ , so kind, with a will of durasteel and a passion for justice. But her passion fueled her commitment to improving the galaxy, not ruling it. In spite of her power and her influence, she remained, somehow, humble.

 

He rushed to her side, kneeling by the bed and buried his head in her lap. His hands gripped at the sheets, bunching them up as his breathing turned ragged. He could feel her cool, slim hands stroking his head, as she curled around him.

 

“Oh Ani,” she breathed, pushing his hair away from his face. “I’m here, Ani, I’m here. You can tell me, please, tell me.”

 

“It _hurts_ , Padme,” he half-sobbed. “It won’t stop hurting.”

 

“What hurts, Ani?” she asked, voice feather soft.

 

“The dark, the whispers, everyone looking at me, expecting me to be something great, but always falling short. The failures, the injustice, the slavery, everyone living off of each other, destroying each other,” he said, feeling too much, the Sith Temple having cracked open all his defenses. He knew that now. He was raw and bleeding to the Force, barely keeping himself in check.

 

“I can’t control myself, Angel, I can’t… and it’s going to make me a slave, again. I know it is, I can feel it trying to work its way into my mind, can feel _something_. I don’t think the Jedi can help me, not this time, not even Obi-Wan, because I don’t think I was ever free in the first place,” he railed, unable to look up at her, though he had felt her go still as he let vent to all the thoughts that had been circling his head.

 

“I can’t lose control. If I do, if I do, then someone else will step in. I can _feel_ it,” he said desperately, knowing that for true. He had seen it time and again, someone lost too much, someone made the wrong run, and someone else took control of their life.

 

The thoughts, the whispers had been running around his head, but here, in Padme’s arms, they stopped. Stopped by her light, by her love for him. For him as a man alone. And there, in his wife’s arms, he cried, because he had to accept that the darkness would forever be a part of him. Every time he found a moment of peace, a way to find balance, it was torn from him. Or he did something, or was confronted with a hard choice, and he did something wrong. Wrong, he always fell, just a little, every time he had managed to rise again. And it was exhausting. Now, at the last, he had to accept it.

 

Anakin Skywalker would never be a Jedi. Not a proper one, because his heart was too dark. It always would be.

 

* * *

 

Padme had held Anakin tightly as he slept, and they had only slept last night. It was morning now, but she could see the shadows under his eyes that told of a restless sleep. Rising so as not to disturb him, she padded into the living area and began to make breakfast herself instead of summoning C-3PO. The fussy droid would only annoy her husband at the moment.

 

She prepared some bread and eggs, simple fare. She hoped that they could have a quiet morning, before the demands of their lives intruded. Anakin needed time to heal, time to learn to trust others again, to see that Obi-Wan and the Jedi only wanted the best for Anakin, instead of the fear that something else would control him.

 

It was an old fear, an old pain, the knowledge of what it meant to be owned, to be considered property. Something not even she could touch, not really. He held his pain so tightly to him, a hold over of when he had so little that was his.

 

Hearing some noise from the bedroom, she knew he was awake, so she brought in the tray to see him using her datapadd to access his messages. He held it with his animatronic hand, as he usually did, while he used his flesh and blood hand to navigate. Then he opened a message, frowning.

 

The datapadd was suddenly crushed in his hand, and he stood with a fire in his blue eyes. A fire that consumed.

 

Careful, remembering Obi-Wan’s words about how precarious Anakin’s mental state was now, how he could be dangerous without even realizing it, she set down the tray. Still only in her nightgown, she approached him slowly, holding her hand out before her and touched him lightly on the arm.

 

“Ani?” she asked, using the diminutive of his name, as it seemed to ground him sometimes. “Ani, tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“Message from Rex. Ahsoka’s in trouble, and I _wasn’t there_ ,” he ground out, looking down at her but, she knew, not seeing her.

 

“I have to go,” he said, brushing past her, and she watched him go, consumed by fear and anger, in ways she had seen before but thought he had overcome. It seemed, however, that Anakin would never be free of his demons, and there was only so much she could do. Or, perhaps, there was only so much he would _let_ her do.

 

Either way, she wondered how long her husband would remain the man she loved, or if she would lose him one way or another.

 

* * *

 

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin called, barging into the man’s rooms, “we need to go, we need to help Ahsoka, she’s been taken!”

 

But Obi-Wan wasn’t there. He looked around, feeling a frantic energy building in him, the whispers not whispers now, but a growling accompaniment to his own anger and frustration. Clenching his jaw, he pushed it all down, and focused on one thing: finding his former master.

 

Of course, this came at a time when the 501st and the 212th were away under Luminara, so he had no trooper help on this one. But he could show up himself and help his former Captain get back his Padawan. Or former Padawan. The Knight-Errant title made things murky, but that didn’t matter: she was still _his_ Ahsoka.

 

Striding through the Temple, he zeroed in on Obi-Wan’s Force signature and followed it. A Council meeting judging by where he was, another one, when they should be halfway across the galaxy by now. He focused on his anger at others, because it kept him from thinking about how he had failed to notice this sooner. How he had let it go for a full night at least, if the timestamp was correct. Because he had been wrapped up in his own problems, again, too wrapped up to check things properly and _do his job_ , to protect her.

 

Just as he rounded the corner, he saw the Council letting out, and Obi-Wan quickly moved to his side, and guided him away from the rest of them.

 

“We just had word from Kit. He ordered the 327th to support the 332nd to rescue her, if you’re mad about what I think you’re mad about,” Obi-Wan said softly as they retreated from the rest of the Council. Anakin tried not to feel like they were all boring holes into his back, as if they knew he was teetering.

 

“So we just _wait here_ ,” he growled, his hand clenching into fists at his side.

 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, his blue eyes flashing. “Anakin, by the time we arrive, they won’t be where they are now, and we’ll be playing catch up. It would take too much time to coordinate, and would only slow them down. Neither of us want that, I know.”

 

Anakin nodded, because Obi-Wan was right. Rushing off now would only unbalance other things, and would slow down the rescue effort. But it felt wrong, to be so far away from her while she was in danger. This wasn’t like when the Trandoshians took her, or when she’d run afoul of Hando on the Gathering with those younglings.

 

Because Rex, of all people, had sent that message. Because if Rex felt like the situation warranted concern, it likely actually warranted a full-scale attack.

 

“We have to trust in Aayla and Bly,” Obi-Wan said as they returned to the other man’s rooms, and Anakin knew what he was trying to do. Trying to push past the anger and reach the reasonable part of him, the part that would see the sense of things. But gently, not demanding that Anakin see as Obi-Wan did, but asking him to see for himself.

 

It was something.

 

He breathed out, doing his best to recall the gentle hands of his wife and the peace he felt in her arms, however briefly. And he knew, now, that he had to apologize to her for his abrupt behavior this morning. He knew he scared her sometimes, and it wasn’t right, that she should be afraid of him, but sometimes it was so hard to keep everything in check.

 

Harder now, but he clamped down on the darkness and focused on what he could, on what he knew to be the right course of action. The actions that Obi-Wan and Padme took without having to fight so hard.

 

“I want to be kept in the loop, and if they bring back any prisoners, I think we should show them that the Jedi aren’t to be trifled with,” he suggested. Obi-Wan merely raised an eyebrow, and Anakin felt the need to clarify. “Prosecute them. Get Adi and Padme to work together again on the Senate. We’ll show them that we can get justice through proper channels, that the Order values the rule of law.”

 

“I agree,” Obi-Wan said sagely, his blue eyes thoughtful.

 

“And I want to be here for her when she gets back,” he insisted. “I can, I don’t know, I’ll train with the younglings. Teach them a few things. I always liked working with them.”

 

“I think that is an excellent idea, Anakin,” the older man said, encouragingly. “I will inform the Council of our movements. I could stay, you know, if you wanted.”

 

“I… thank you, Obi-Wan, but you need to get back to the 212th, and Cody,” Anakin said, and it felt like a wrench to do so, but he did it anyway. “Just make sure to take Ventress with you when you go.”

 

And they both shared a brief smile at that.

 

He wasn’t better, yet. But he might be. If he could just hold on to his control.

 

* * *

 

In a side chamber off of an opulent office, Darth Sidious was not sure if he was pleased or upset at the events that had just transpired. Certainly, the boy picking up one of the oldest and most powerful holocrons could only tip the balance in his favor. Indeed, it had provided easy access to the boy’s mind once again, after something had somehow nearly shut him out.

 

But the Temple was destroyed, a means to access more power and allow him to fuel his older body to duel with the skill he had developed over decades. And, Tarkin seemed to have gone overboard in his attempts to destroy the annoying Togruta girl. Sidious had thought that just a touch, a touch here and there in the man’s mind would prove beneficial, would make him that much better a tool, but it appeared that was not the case.

 

It was, all in all, most upsetting.

 

So little time left, to enact the last of his plans, and not all the pieces were yet in place.

 

It would just mean he would have to use the other tools at his disposal.

 

And Darth Sidious smiled. It was the smile of a man who had spent decades to ensure that all paths, no matter how twisted and retrograde, would lead to victory. He would see the Jedi destroyed, and the galaxy would be his to command, totally and completely his.

 

Because power was all that truly mattered. Power, and the ability to use it to its fullest.


	9. These Scars on my Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna go with not safe, for reliving past trauma.

“Do you understand, what you must do?” Master Ti asked of them, her expression serene but her eyes intense.

 

“Yes, Master,” Ekria said, “but are you sure this allowed? This isn’t anything like Jedi healing. I’m not sure if…”

 

“Padawan, recall Master Che’s first rule of healing: whatever works, _works_. All else, even the Code, is secondary,” Master Ti reminded them. Ekria nodded and felt bolstered about what they were about to attempt.

 

“Thank you, Master,” Tai said, feeling a grim determination build in her heart. Ahsoka Tano had been her friend, since they were younglings, even though they were two years apart. They had both been loud and considered ‘too uncouth’ for many other Jedi. When Ahsoka had been sent as a Padawan for Knight Skywalker, Tai had felt some hope.

  
That hoped had been dashed when her first Master died, far away from her, defending a planet. Tai hadn’t even been able to be there for her Master, though she knew she only would have died, too. That, she had patiently explained to one of the Initiates at the Temple, had never been the point.

 

The point was that she had never even been allowed to help. Been kept back for fear of her age or her innocence, whatever of that was left.

 

But now, now she was _needed_.

 

“Great, I know that look,” Ekria said, but Tai sensed in the Barolian the same determination that was in her. Ekria was just nicer about it. Tai had always had a hard time _playing nice_ , and being around the 104th had only reinforced her opinion that nothing worked quite so well as the direct approach.

 

Her Master might differ, but he always said she had to find her own way of doing things anyway.

 

“Come on, let’s go find our wandering Knight-Errant,” Tai said, and Ekria laughed.

 

“Don’t see what’s so funny,” Tai drawled as they left the little meeting room-turned study.

 

“You need to do more linguistic study,” Ekria noted, leaving Tai confused in addition to determined.

  
It was, she knew, not the best combination, but not her worst either.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka was hiding.

 

She knew she was hiding, but she couldn’t bring herself to walk through the corridors packed with troopers and Navy personnel. When it had been quiet on the ship, she felt like she could wander, but now after ship-board morning the routine of army life had resumed. But she felt distanced from it, as though some part of her was missing, the part of her that belonged, maybe.

 

Which was unfair.

 

In her head, she knew it was unfair. She had Tai and Ekrai and Kersos and the troopers tripping over themselves to help her. It was just she didn’t know how to accept this kind of help. Maybe it was hard to accept that she even needed this kind of help.

 

Because maybe, just maybe, if she accepted the help that would cement the reality of what had happened. Never mind that Kix and Erel had documented her injuries, that the scars on her legs were never going away, or that sometimes when a trooper she didn’t know well got too close it made her uncomfortable.

 

Speaking it, letting out what had happened inside her heart, it caused her breathing to speed up just thinking about it.

 

So. Hiding.

 

It was a good spot, as far as hiding spots went. Secluded, just big enough for her, which was a fair sight bigger now than when she had first shipped out to Christophsis. She was hitting another growth spurt. _Late developer_ , Che had said during her last visit to the Halls of Healing for a checkup. Well, she was certainly making up for it now.

 

Then she heard someone approach, and she froze, and hoped no one looked up. No one ever looked up.

 

“Ahsoka, get your ass down here,” Tai demanded, and Ahsoka sighed. Of course Tai would look up. No one _tall_ ever looked up.

 

“Lovely view of the stars from here. Just enjoying it,” she said, looking out the windows in the cargo bay doors. She was up in the gantry that paralleled the bay doors, which gave her a level view with some of the larger windows.

 

“Ahsoka, you’re avoiding everyone, and its rather obvious. Please come down so we can talk,” Ekria tried, and Ahsoka felt something in her snap. She leapt down like a huntress and stalked toward the other young women, but neither of them backed down.

 

“Talk? Talk about what? Talk about what happened to me? Talk about how made me _feel_? Like I don’t know? What good would ever, ever come of letting all of _that_ out into the light of day?” she railed, her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into the flesh of her palm.

 

“Because… because _i’tirtina’talanda leithian’i’fae_ ,” Ekria said, faltering on her trills and accents, but Ahsoka knew the words and what they meant, what they implored her to do: _the shared burden frees the soul from bondage._ She turned her head and closed her eyes, her body even more tense than before.

 

They had to have talked to Shaak Ti, which meant _another person knew_.

 

“You had no right,” Ahsoka bit out, glaring at them, shaking with anger.

 

“I don’t know what it has to do with right to or not, but you need a kick up the backside. I know, it’s only been a day since you got off that shithole of a planet, and sure, maybe I don’t know the maximum allowable wallowing time, but if you want to stay out here and keep fighting, you gotta be a whole lot more stable than _this_ ,” Tai declared, drawing herself up to her own, less than intimidating height.

 

“Ahsoka, we don’t know what you’re going through, but if you told us, you wouldn’t have to go through it alone,” Ekria said gently, sidling closer to her. As the other young woman came close, Ahsoka tensed, and Ekria paused. Then with a breath in, a breath out, Ahsoka let her shoulders relax and Ekra put an arm around her.

 

“You’ll think less of me,” she said, voice sounding so small to her own montrals. Then Tai took her hand in her own.

 

“No, we’ll just be happy you came through as intact as you are,” Tai said, and that simple honest statement did more than all the overblown reassurances in the galaxy. With a short chuckle and wiping the tears from her eyes, Ahsoka nodded.

 

“Alright. I’ll do it,” she agreed. “I better go make the rounds, then. And… you’ll both be there? You’re willing to share the burden?” The words were in Basic, but they knew what she meant.

 

“Of course,” Ekria said, squeezing her close.

 

“Why else would be _here_?” Tai asked rhetorically.

 

* * *

 

“Kix,” he heard his general say, and he looked up from his desk in the medical bay to see her standing in the doorway. And, for the first time since she had gotten off Moriband, she looked like she was letting herself feel again.

 

“Come in, General,” he said, standing to offer her a seat, but she only shook her head.

 

“Not a long visit, but I do have a favor to ask you,” she said, and he gestured for her to continue. “You don’t have to, that’s important. This isn’t an order. But I would be grateful if you would share my burden.”

 

Kix wasn’t sure, exactly, what this meant, but he had a fair idea. It meant she was ready to start the real healing process, the psychological one.

 

“I will, Ashoka,” he said, using her name to show he understood he would be there for her as a friend, not a subordinate. She ventured a smile, and nodded.

 

“Come the secondary briefing room after dinner, and no armor, please,” she said. He dipped his head in acknowledgement, and she left. Kix sat on his desk and gazed thoughtfully into the distance. This had all the flavor of a ritual. And Kix, always eager to know more about various mental health tactics, decided to do a little research.

 

* * *

 

There was a knock at his door, and Erel Kersos looked up from his datapadds to see Ahsoka standing there. She looked a little more at ease with herself than what he had seen yesterday, but he knew only time would tell how she handled her trauma.

 

“Erel, we haven’t known each other for long, but I. You. That is to say, I respect you a great deal, and I see your dedication to helping the men when they get hurt,” she said, and then paused with a grimace.

 

“Thank you, Ahsoka,” he said with a measured tone. She walked into his office and sat in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk, and managed to not fidget. It was a habit he noticed she had, when she was aimlessly agitated. Something his son had done, when young, and Erel once more wanted to throttle whoever decided war was a place for young people.

 

“I wanted to ask if you would be comfortable in sharing my burden,” she said, and Erel thought about her phrasing for a moment. Then a little metaphorical light clicked on over his head.

 

“I’m touched that you would trust me this much, Ahsoka,” he said gravely, “I’ll be there. Just name the time and place.” The corners of her mouth twitched up into a smile, and she told him.

 

It was then that he knew that one did not simply stop being a parent, even when one’s children were gone. There were simply too many children who still needed parenting to ever quit.

 

* * *

 

Jesse ducked another swing from Rex, a right hook, that normally would have connected, but luckily, Rex was distracted. Jesse, being the kind and loving brother that he was, took full advantage of it. The idea was that no one ever got better by being coddled, and Jesse hadn’t been able to beat Rex in a sparing match in a while anyway.

 

He dipped his bare torso and twisted, popping back up just as Rex was slightly off balance, and then hesitated as he saw the general standing on the edge of the mat. Rex, a kind and loving brother himself, neatly elbowed him in the ribs while he was distracted.

 

Was kind of worth it to see the general roll her eyes but smile at their sparing antics.

 

“Heya, General,” Jesse said, getting his breath back, and the effect on Rex was almost magical. Rex’s eyes widened in surprise for a second before he got himself under control and turned to face the young woman, but Jesse had seen a lot in that second. Now that he knew what to look for.

 

“Thought there’d be more of a crowd for you two,” she teased, and it was good to see her be able to do that.

 

“Aw, they all wanted to spend time in the cantina, I guess,” Jesse drawled, removing the wraps from his hands.

 

“Well, glad to find you both. Last stop this way. I have a favor to ask,” she said bluntly.

 

“You don’t have to ask, Ahsoka, you know that,” Rex said, his voice soft and deep, and Jesse had never heard Rex sound like that before. She gave him a small, sad smile, and Jesse started to wonder if he was going to have to kick both their heads at some point. But, that was a problem for another day.

 

“Yes, I do. That’s how this works, at least,” she said and then took a breath. “I want to ask if you would be willing to share my burden.” Jesse took a moment to puzzle that one out, because it sounded like a Jedi thing, or something similar, but he put it together with what Kix had told him about trauma recovery and it made sense, he supposed. Rex, meanwhile, had frozen on the spot, like his heart had stopped working or something.

 

“I’m in,” Jesse said, breezily, gathering up his things, and giving his general a respectful nod on the way out. “I’ll ask Kix for the details.”

 

“But how did…” he heard Ahsoka start to ask as he left, but Jesse didn’t stay to answer the question. Cause he might need a few things pointed out to him now and again, but it was easy enough to see that he wasn’t needed for the next bit.

 

* * *

 

Rex watched his brother leave, and became aware that he was standing in front of Ahsoka half naked and alone. But she turned back to him after watching Jesse go, without any apparent sign of discomfort. Which was one up on him. He strode to the bench where his shirt was and pulled it on.

 

“This isn’t an order, Rex. You don’t have to,” she told him, and he rolled his shoulders as he started to remove the boxing wraps from his hands. He looked at his hands for a second, flexing them. Strong, blunt, soldiers hands. He had killed with these hands. But he had also saved people’s lives, he had tucked in Cut’s children, he had held a brother that lay dying, and gripped Ahsoka’s hand many times, for comfort and support over the years.

 

His hands had been made for one thing, but he had used them for so much more.

 

Rex raised his head to look at her, and he saw the concern on her face. Concern for him. Turning to face her fully, he didn’t draw himself up as a soldier would, but instead faced her as a friend.

 

“It would be my honor to share the burden you carry,” he said, and her eyes widened.

 

“How the hell did you know to say that?” she asked, surprised. He frowned.

 

“It just… seemed right,” he said, and she huffed, giving him a quizzical look, her head cocked to the side. He shrugged.

 

“Thank you, Rex, for being willing. I’ll be in the secondary briefing room after dinner. Don’t wear your armor,” she suggested, and he nodded.

 

“I’ll be there,” he promised. She smiled, that sad smile again, and wandered away. He watched her go, and for the first time in days, felt a glimmer of hope in his heart. Not for himself, or whatever new, complicated feelings had come to the surface. He felt hope that he wouldn’t lose their friendship, that he wouldn’t lose her. And more, that she wouldn’t lose _herself_.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka hadn’t eaten much for dinner. She had eaten something, grateful to have her appetite back to some degree, but her nerves about this meeting had gotten the better of her. With a deep breath, she entered the briefing room to find that Ekria and Tai had worked wonders. It was completely converted into a meditation room, like the ones in the Temple.

 

Unbidden, a full smile blossomed on her face.

 

“It’s perfect,” she said, gratitude in her voice. Both other Jedi smiled proudly. She stepped in to the room, turning around, noting the soft lighting and the cushions on the floor arranged in a circle. Then she saw the troopers arrive, and Erel. They all looked around curiously, taking in the arrangement and they all looked to her for guidance. Except for Kix, who sat easily, looking up at her with a helpful smile.

 

“You cheated,” she accused, and he gave her an expression that all but said: _who me?_

 

“I was curious,” he admitted, and she shook her head.

 

“For those of you who don’t have Kix’s need to obsessively research everything,” she drawled, “I have asked you here to be part of my _aethe’rind_ , my healing circle. It’s a ritual, of a sorts, to allow the clan to help share the burden of someone who has been severely hurt.”

 

“So, we just listen?” Jesse asked, settling down next to Kix, while Erel and Rex also picked their spots. Ahsoka sat as well, Ekria and Tai flanking her. She was certain they had planned it that way, but she didn’t complain.

 

“You listen, and you take my pain, my hurt into your heart,” she explained and took a deep breath, trying to help them understand while also working to keep her equilibrium while she could. She had to accept that she would lose her balance here; she wouldn’t be able to keep anything like composure if this was going to work.

 

“But, we don’t have the Force, not all of us,” Erel said, looking from her to Ekria to Tai. Tai snorted.

 

“Don’t need it, it’s not a Jedi thing. It’s a Togruta thing. We asked Master Ti,” Tai said.

 

“As Master Ti explained it to us as more than listening. When you listen, you don’t always let the words into you, you don’t always listen to the weight of every word. Here, all the words matter, and that’s how you listen. So when we leave here, it was like you went through Ahsoka’s experiences with her. And because you were with her, she isn’t alone,” Ekria said carefully, and Ahsoka nodded.

 

“Better than I can do, and it’s my native culture,” she said. “I suppose it just seems obvious to me.”

 

“Then we’ll relieve this with you, through your words, Ahsoka, so you won’t be alone,” Rex said solemnly, and she nodded, her breathing turning shallow again. Her hands clenched and unclenched, but she consciously laid them flat on her legs.

 

She looked at her friends, those who were part of the clan of her heart, each in their turn in the dim light. In their eyes, she forced herself to look beyond the concern that could be mistaken for pity, to find the love she had once so easily believed in. Her mouth opened soundlessly once, twice, then she breathed, gathering her thoughts, trying to find a way to begin, and the courage to share what had happened to her in full, not just the physical punishment and the fear of Tarkin’s desires, but what had happened inside her heart.

 

“I began to feel fear when I was on the ship. After I launched the escape pod and he walked down the corridor. He had a re-breather in place, and I knew he had planned this trap too well,” she began. “But I had no idea how bad it would get.”

 

“At first, I was left alone. I had the Force, and I sank into it. What I didn’t know, what should have been impossible was that he had a Force suppression collar,” she told them, her throat suddenly dry. Beside her, Ekria and Tai both sucked in hissing breaths, and she saw Jesse reach up and touch his own throat, frowning darkly. She coughed, and Ekria handed her a cup of water. After taking a sip, she forged ahead.

 

“He had said, on the ship, ‘You are mine, now,’ and I hadn’t thought much of it. But when I first woke up, he was there. Sitting in front of me while I was in a suspension cage,” she said, backtracking in time. “I had the Force, then, but I was groggy, and even though my sabers were in plain sight, I couldn’t _do_ anything. That was when he told me, told me I was a traitor to the Republic, and that I would tell him everything I had ever done.”

 

She closed her eyes, not wanting to remember, but having to remember, because otherwise this whole thing would be pointless. She had to let it out. It was clamoring to come out, but it was so hard to let go.

 

“And through the Force I could feel… he wasn’t sane,” she said, finally, starting with the easier part. “He was lost, twisted in his own mind, and worse, he had fixated on me, like I was the cause of all his problems. But it would have been simple if he had hated me. I think he did, but not just hate. In the hate there was something…” she trailed off, and fighting for control, her breathing became shallow.

 

No one moved. No one breathed. They hung on her words, not because they were fascinated, but because they taking this journey with her. Their hearts were with her heart, but part of her still didn’t believe it. This was not the worst, however, she had far to go to get to the worse.

 

“Something sexual,” she said in a rush, and Ekria wrapped her in a hug, a comforting kind of contact, and Ahsoka leaned into it. “It wasn’t… nice. It was possessive, and violent, and I could _feel_ it.” She shuddered, and she felt Ekria do the same, but Ekria held on to her. Tai scooted closer until she sat against Ahsoka’s other side. Ahsoka held her hand up, and Tai gripped it, squeezing tightly for a moment.

 

“I didn’t… it didn’t make me feel anything but threatened, though. I was afraid, but I had the Force, and then well, he left me alone for a while. I lost track of time, and I didn’t get any food, but I had the Force. Then,” she continued grimly, “when my reserves were wearing away, that’s when he put the collar on. But I thought I was being brave. He ranted about how even Jedi would break, if they had the Force taken from them. He asked how long I had been a traitor to the Republic, but I stayed silent. I stayed silent, like it was an act of defiance, and he lost a little bit of control. He used the knife he was holding to cut off my top, to try to take away my dignity, I think.” Tai squeezed her hand again, a comforting pressure, and Ekria kept her arm around Ahsoka’s shoulders. Erel stayed where he was, but Kix moved closer, breaking the circle but that didn’t matter. He sat close next to Tai and held his own hand up. Tai put her small hand in Kix’s, and Ahsoka felt a little more bolstered.

 

“But he fled,” she continued. “I think it scared him, his own loss of control. Then he left me alone again, now starving without the Force to sustain me. But this… this was the hardest part. I think, I think I started to hate him, then. Fear, I could work through, but it seems like hate lodges in a heart. It takes hold and makes everything twisted. It makes everything dark, and you can’t see outside of it.” Jesse and Rex and Erel came closer then, too, reforming the circle, as one hand held the next and all the way around, until they formed an unbroken link. Tears began to well up in her eyes, but she had no free hand to dash them away. Instead, she let them fall.

 

“And the next time,” she went on, her breathing turning shallow and her voice hitching. “The next time was when he really hurt me. I thought, I thought I was being clever, I thought I was being _so smart_. Make him afraid of me, make him too afraid of losing control to try anything. But then, I goaded him and he didn’t run away. He just let himself lose control. That was when… he cut off my pants, and he put bands on my lekku, and broke my leg, and put sonic scramblers on my montrals, and I broke. Oh stars help me, I broke, but a Jedi _never_ breaks.”

 

She was dimly aware of the others, forming a comforting cocooning presence from the outside world, and here, in this room, the words poured out of her now, the dark thing inside her heart tried to burrow deeper, but she would expose it to the light of day, the light of the love of her friends. Gritting her teeth, she spoke in a rush now, trying to move faster than the darkness inside her.

 

“I told him everything he wanted to know, I told him things I didn’t even do, and I told him… I told him about me and Barriss, and then, oh stars, he dragged every little detail out of me. It made me feel small and dirty and _wrong_ ,” she said, nearly sobbing, but powering through. “He’d go away, and they’d feed me, and I’d feel so _karking grateful_ , and I knew it was wrong, it was all wrong, and I _hated_ him, and I could feel it, that darkness inside me, twisting me. Like I’d been _infected_ , but that I deserved it, somehow, because I was wrong now, and… and…”

 

Her breathing became too shallow and quick for her to continue, but then Rex was there, holding her to his chest as he breathed in and out slowly. Her arms wrapped around his middle and closed her eyes briefly, letting her breathing match his. Ekria and Tai cuddled in close behind her, while she could feel Kix and Jesse pile on from the side. No one could create an affectionate dog pile like _vod’e_.

 

But it was Erel’s face that set her to sobbing. He stood, hand on her shoulder, reaching past everyone who was clustered around her. As she looked him in the eye, she saw her pain there, reflected back at her, but somehow, somehow he was so full of understanding and acceptance that it finally, finally broke that dam she had built up inside of herself. She sobbed. Hard, racking, ugly sobs, her fingers digging into Rex’s back, while her friends touched her gently, witnessing her pain, making it real, but also sharing it with her.

 

She was not alone.

 

Then, inside her heart, inside her soul, darkness burned away before the light of the love of people around her. She could accept now that there were those in the galaxy who would love her and accept her, people she could reach out back to, as they ever reached out for her. She need never be alone again, even if she was by herself, because their love would always be there, a part of her, as her love was a part of them.

 

It still hurt. This would not make her stop flinching at odd times, or sleep easy every night. But she could feel some of her confidence, her strength returning to her. She would flinch, but press on.   She would wake, but it would be possible to go back to sleep.

 

The pain would perhaps always be there, to one degree or another, but as she knelt, still holding close to Rex and under a rather unique mountain of affection, she knew it would now be bearable.

 

And she could live with that.

 

* * *

 

The _Adamant_ was back in the Core, and it would only be an hour or so until they hit Coruscant. It would be back to normal, then, though Rex wasn’t sure what that meant, really. After he had borne witness to what Ahsoka had gone through, after they all had done so, they had gone their separate ways. Though no one had rushed apart, and maybe he and Jesse and Kix had taken their time about helping put the room back to rights, and Erel revealed he had brought some cake with him, which they lingered over.

 

Still, they had to sleep, but sleep had been elusive. He knew they would all feel an echo of her pain for some time, because that had certainly been closer to what she had done for the 501st after Umbara than one of those talk-therapy sessions Kix kept trying to get the men to do.

 

He could see and hear her still, curling in on herself and near panic, her memories almost overwhelming her. There hadn’t been time to think, all he had known was that his friend needed him, so he was there.

 

But now was not the time to be thinking about that. Now he had to go over duty rosters and arrange various medical leaves, and generally deal with the minutiae of command. At least he had _caf_ and a quiet spot in the cantina, this early in the morning, because right now the mess hall would be crowded with his brothers at breakfast. Rex was nowhere near as anti-social as Wolffe, but he had come to appreciate the modicum of peace that solitude could bring.

 

Then, he realized he wasn’t alone. Looking up, he saw Ahsoka there, a generous amount of food piled on a tray, and he smiled to see her appetite back in fine form.

 

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share?” he asked, as she sat across from him. She smiled, and unwrapped a bundle of napkins to reveal several different cuts of meat, including those spicy sausages he liked, and what looked like one of every breakfast pastry in the known galaxy. He also saw a fairly similar selection on her tray, though she had more meat than pastry.

 

“Why share when I brought you your own?” she asked, able to actually banter again. There were still some shadows around her eyes, but the war inside her was over. Then she shoveled some food into her mouth as she looked around. “Its nice in here when it’s quiet.”

 

“It is,” he agreed, biting into a pastry. It was one of the fruity kinds, though he couldn’t say exactly what fruit it was supposed to be. Some of the men debated how close each, specific fruit goo was to actual fruit, but Rex lumped it all together and called it good enough.

 

They ate in silence for a little while, and Rex found it was actually a companionable silence again. Not strained, not awkward like it been before she had been taken. It was good.

 

“I said some things to you that I shouldn’t have,” she ventured.

 

“Did the same myself,” he admitted, and they gave each other small, only slightly embarrassed smiles.

 

“Also said some things that were true,” she pointed out.

 

“Could argue that as well,” he countered, and she raised a white brow at him.

 

“Since that’s the case, how about we table that for now, and talk about it when we’re both in better places?” she suggested, and he accepted that was a good idea of that with equanimity. It still caused him a bit of trouble to see her differently, to think that his care and, yes, even his love for her wasn’t a simple kind of thing. And maybe, he realized, her suggestion also indicated that how she felt about him was just as complicated.

 

“Might cause trouble for you, down the road,” he said, and she waved away that quasi-objection.

 

“One mess at a time, Rex,” she said, and smiled. The smile reached her eyes again, and it was hard to explain how uplifted that made him feel.

 

“Alright then,” he agreed, and he knew he was leaving open a door now, a door they could decide to go through or not. But in a time and place of their own choosing, if at all. There was another topic that needed to be discussed as well, and now was a good time as any. He bit down his pride and said, “But I’ve also been thinking, and well, we should tell Erel.”

 

“You mean it?” she asked, eyes wide and hopeful. “Really? Cause if you don’t trust him, Rex…”

 

“After seeing what he did to get you back, how he helped you, and I have to admit how good he is with my brothers,” Rex said, and then sighed. “We need his help, and cutting him out only hurts us. Besides, trust has to start somewhere.”

 

She looked at him, then, one of those Jedi looks that she did from time to time. Her head tilted to the side, her blue eyes thoughtful and piercing at the same time, like she could look through a man and at him at the same time.

 

“Yes, yes it does,” she said, and her smile blossomed once more. Then her eyes flicked down to his napkin of food. “You going to eat that or are you just thinking about it real hard?”

 

“You want more, you know where they keep it,” he said with a touch of mock indignity, and he bit into one of the spicy sausages.

 

And for the first time in what seemed like far, far too long, Ahsoka Tano laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tai has picked up a lot of foul language from the Wolfpack, which they find adorable and hilarious. …Don’t tell General Koon. (Plo totally knows, though.)
> 
> I tried to handle Ahsoka’s processing of the trauma well. This is the first big step someone takes to accept what happened to them and accept the love and support of the people around them. Kind of crazy for it to happen in a day, and we’ll see repercussions of this throughout the series, in Ahsoka and others. However, to me, Ahsoka is so resilient (with added Jedi bonus) that I hope this didn’t come across as too terribly quick for folks.
> 
> Any and all con/crit welcomed. This is the first time I’m doing this kind of fic, and its important that it gets done right.
> 
> Also, totally made up the healing circle stuff, but since Togruta are deeply communal, it makes sense that group therapy in a basic staple of their mental health.
> 
> “Togruti” (Tolkien’s elvish that I muck with)  
> aethe’rind = healing circle  
> i = the  
> tirtina = shared  
> talanda = burden, sorrow  
> leithian = frees from bondage  
> fae = soul
> 
> So all together: i’tirtina’talanda leithian’i’fae = the shared burden frees the soul from bondage. Or close enough for this fic! (Let’s not talk about how long I took to piece that together, haha, my life.)


	10. A Legacy of Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preeeetty safe. Bad things happen to a bad guy.

Ahsoka stepped off the gunship, Ekria and Tai at her heels, and onto the platform in front of the Jedi Temple. Tarkin had been moved to a Republic holding facility with Erel overseeing the operation. Half the Council that was in residence had come down to meet her: Masters Windu and Yoda, of course, along with Master Gallia.

 

The only figure she focused on, however, was that of Anakin Skywalker, who stood off to the side behind the Masters of the Order. He half started to approach her, but stopped himself, giving her a rueful grin and a pulse of concern along their bond. She sent back as much reassurance as she could, and his shoulders visibly relaxed. There was something else underneath his concern, something she had not felt since the whole horrible Rako Hardeen debacle, but she pushed that to the back of her mind for now.

 

“Grateful, we are, to see you from another ordeal recovered, Knight-Errant Tano,” the Grandmaster of the Order told her, his green eyes full of such compassion, as though he could see into her heart. Likely, he could. She let a brief smile grace her lips and bowed her head.

 

“Thank you, Master Yoda, for being here for me,” she said, and found that she really meant it. She could remember taking lessons from him, when she was roughly his size, and how his care shone through every word, every gesture. For all that she knew that he was not infallible, no one could doubt that he cared for every being he had watched over and raised for over eight hundred years. She wondered, momentarily, what that did to a person, to watch generation after generation grow old and die or fall in battle. And yet, he kept teaching, kept loving, and she thought that there was something there, something important in that.

 

But then Anakin was there, breaking the chain of her thoughts.

 

“Good to see you, Ahsoka,” Anakin said, his voice heavy, and she saw the pain and fear and fire in his blue eyes. She tried to send back only hope, only care, only the sense that she was going to be okay.

 

“Good to see you, too, Anakin,” she returned.

 

“Now, perhaps you could debrief us,” Master Windu said.

 

“I have Master Secura’s report,” Ekria piped up, overcoming her awe at the assembled Jedi.

 

“I have Master Plo’s,” Tai said, undeterred by the exalted company.

 

“Excellent,” Adia Gallia said, breaking into the conversation. “I will need to know everything if I am to work with the Senate to prosecute this… _man_ ,” and Adi’s voice dripped with scorn on that word, “to the fullest extent of the law.”

 

Ahsoka felt a sharp spike of approval from Anakin, which was, honestly, to be expected. What surprised her, and what made her relieved, was that she no longer hungered for vengeance. She didn’t want him to suffer, because she had begun to understand how darkness crept into a heart and twisted it.

 

All she wanted was to walk the path she deemed just and right and true, and she had learned that no one could walk that path alone. Because that, she knew now, was how darkness flourished: in solitude, in pushing away love and clinging to possession. It was what had twisted Tarkin. It was what had tipped Barriss over the edge.

 

She hoped that she would not Fall as they had, because she had accepted what they could not: that life is not traveled alone.

 

* * *

 

Wilhulff Tarkin sat in his cell in the Republic holding facility. He was not in a prison yet, oh no, the Republic had its procedures and proper rules. They made sure life was divided up into easy little pieces, so that the vapid masses could be spoon-fed all they needed to know and nothing more.

 

There were no windows, but there was nothing in the area worth looking at anyway. Just the festering city-planet steeped in vice and luxury while men fought and died on planets too distant for anyone to care about. But he had cared. He had only ever wanted to protect the Republic against all threats, external as well as internal. He had given everything to the cause, his life, his career, but in the end the rot had been too deep.

 

His hands clenched and unclenched, remembering the feel of the knife against her skin, the crunch of her leg breaking, the trill of her screams in his ears. So close, he had been so close to the truth, dragging it out of her, and she would have only been the beginning. If he could break _her_ , he could have broken more of _them_ , and he could have shown them all that they were not the mystical paragons the galaxy thought them to be.

 

But the wanton little slut had been _rescued_. Three battalions at her beck and call, it seemed.

 

The Jedi were traitors. The Chancellor had never said so, but the man had wanted to know. Trusting their military to an outdated order of religious fanatics with too much power had been folly. They had relied on the Jedi for far too long, and he knew now, had perhaps always known, they were what had made the Republic weak. They had _infested_ it.

 

Traitors to the Republic, in favor of their own misbegotten ideals.

 

He stood, and strode to the force field, his shoulders back, his head held high.

 

“I demand my rights! I demand to see the Chancellor!” he called, but the guards did not move. So Tarkin yelled out his rights over and over, even after it became apparent there was no one listening to him.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka stood and reported to the Council, all of them assembled in the flesh or via holocomms. She did not think she could have told them everything, had she not already shared that particular burden already, with others of _her_ choosing. Out the corner of her eye, she caught Shaak Ti’s expression, a deep listening underneath her serene mask. Obi-Wan’s eyes, even over the transmission, looked like his heart had broken for her.

 

She wondered how she had ever missed how much the man gave away with his eyes. How anyone had ever missed it.

 

“Hm, experienced much suffering you have,” Master Yoda said softly, his ears drooping slightly. Even Rancisis and Tiin were quiet and contemplative, absorbing what she had been through.

 

“But showed compassion and mercy you have as well. Proud, we all are. An example, you have shown yourself to be,” the little Jedi continued, his pride for her apparent. She shook her head, in spite of herself, unable to hold the truth back.

 

“I didn’t do it for him,” she said, voice harder than expected. “I did it for myself, because I don’t want to be _that_ kind of person.”

 

“Think you that makes a difference, one better than the other?” Yoda asked, amusement creeping into his voice. “Hrmph, on the difference, do not dwell as yet. Rest, you must. Recover, train, these tasks are for you now.”

 

“Thank you, Masters,” she said, and then hesitated. Her eyes shot to Kit, also attending via holocomm, and her eyes asked a question. Kit, being Kit, only tilted his head, as if telling her that it was her choice to make. “But there is something else I think we must also discuss.”

 

Master Windu leaned forward in his seat, his hands clasped together and held in front of his face so he was looking over his knuckles at her. The other Masters leaned forward, and there were fast and furious looks between Shaak, Kit and Plo, and Ahsoka was fairly certain they had just opened a private comm-channel.

 

“I believe I know the matter to which Knight-Errant Tano is referring,” Master Plo said. “It was something she discovered, with the help of Kit and Shaak, and was eventually brought to me. I believed, at the time, that their actions were correct, but now, I see we must take the risk.”

 

That caused more than a few other masters to breathe out heavily, clearly frustrated with the roundabout phrasing. When talking to non-Jedi, they could retreat into their odd phrasing without a qualm, but Ahsoka noticed that they all became rather annoyed with when they did it to each other.

 

Well, except for Master Yoda of course. Eight hundred years of odd syntax wasn’t expected to change.

 

Then Plo Koon told them about the chips, or as much as they knew about the chips. About how the troopers were unknowingly the greatest threat to the Jedi in centuries because they were, in some ways, innocents in all of this. Their very innocence made them a fearsome weapon. Finally, at the last, he told them about how the Chancellor himself might have ordered the whole thing.

 

She had half expected an uproar. The stony, silence of the grim acceptance of fate was somehow so much worse. As though they knew there had been something wrong with the _vod’e_ all along and had gone ahead _anyway._

 

It made her stomach clench to think about.

 

“Very well, if the chips are there, they are there. But for the last, you have one clone’s testimony for that, and a dead clone at that,” Master Tiin rumbled into the silence. Ahsoka shifted uncomfortably.

 

“Fives isn’t dead,” she said in a rush.

 

 _That_ caused an uproar.

 

“You _faked_ a trooper’s death!” Master Gallia said, clearly shocked. “Knight-Errant Tano, that is… _why_?”

 

“Because they were going to kill him! I know everyone thought he was defective, and I don’t know if I entirely believe him either. He was pretty agitated when we last spoke, but… well, I couldn’t just let one of my troopers _die_ , because I don’t think he would have gotten a fair trial,” she said, standing her ground, feeling like she had something more solid, now that she could protect someone else.

 

“For what it is worth,” Shaak Ti broke in, her lilting voice like cool water on a fire, “ARC-trooper Fives was ever a truthful man who cared for his brothers. Whatever the truth, he followed it. It was not in him to do otherwise.”

 

“We have to move on this quickly,” Master Windu insisted, but pulled up short at Master Yoda’s thoughtful humming.

 

“A most clever plan, this is,” Yoda said softly, with a sorrow in his eyes for how badly used the troopers were. “If the Chancellor controlled by the Sith is, move against him openly we cannot. While under threat from the men we are, circumspect our actions must be.”

 

“My Padawan and I can continue to use our movement to visit as many battalions as we can to help remove the chips from the command staff at least, until we can find a large-scale solution,” Kit said, his optimism that there would be such a solution buoying the others.

 

“Perhaps Lumiara could return to the field in a similar capacity,” Obi-Wan suggested. “She is currently with the 501st, but once Anakin returns she will be free to move much as Kit does now. Certainly, the more we do the better.”

 

“An excellent thought, Obi-Wan,” Master Plo said, which all but guaranteed Luminara would be given the assignment now. Plo Koon had emerged as a master strategist in the war and in the understanding of troop movements. If he decided that they needed the extra help, then it was going to happen.

 

“I do have one question for you, Ahsoka,” Master Mundi said, his logical mind turning over all that had been said. “How have you ensured that your trooper is safe?”

 

“Ah, that,” she said, stalling. Then Shaak Ti came to her rescue again.

 

“Fives is under the protection of Barriss Offee,” the Togruta Master said, and then there sharp, cutting remarks from around the Council and a resigned: “We wanted you to temper Skywalker, not be like him,” from Master Windu.

 

“Barriss found her way to us!” Ahsoka declared sharply. “Without her Fives would have died. She saved him, and she saved this knowledge. I don’t even know how she knew, but she was there when she was needed. No, I don’t think she’s well, but if we’re going to accept that we have to use a slave army to win a war no one is sure why we’re fighting in the first place, maybe letting a madwoman do what she can to help isn’t the worst thing in the galaxy. Besides, if everyone thinks they’re dead or just missing, then no one’s looking for them, and that’s their best protection. And the best way to find information. Information is less protected when you don’t think anyone’s looking for it.”

 

There was that silence again, the kind of silence that communicated volumes. Specifically, extreme disappointment mixed with a resigned acceptance.

 

“Why didn’t you come to us first?” Windu asked, leaning back, but she thought she could detect some weariness in him. Just on the edges.

 

“Technically, I did,” she said slowly. “Master Shaak and Master Kit were there, and so the Council was informed. In part.”

 

“She has you there, Mace,” Obi-Wan said sagely, a smirk in his voice if not his face, and the Korun Master sighed, rolling his eyes skyward.

 

“Done this is, change it we cannot. Adapt and move through this present we must, if preserve the balance and the future of the Order we shall,” Yoda said. “Hm, yes. Fight in the shadows we must. Play this Sith game we will, until learned enough we have to win.”

 

“We must tell the generals in the field, and the Padwan commanders, but about the chips only. Anything about the Chancellor might only cause panic, or… a conflict of loyalty,” Windu said, and there was a round of agreement. Ahsoka heard the unspoken concern. Skyguy had considered the Chancellor a friend for over a decade. Getting Skyguy to change his mind about anything was difficult enough, let alone without any hard proof.

 

“I suggest that we initiate an investigation along those lines. A very quiet one,” Master Rancisis suggested. The other Council members nodded.

 

“There is only one left, who might be up to the task,” Master Tiin noted. “And it still might kill him.”

 

“That would not, necessarily, be a deterrent, you are no doubt aware. In fact, I am sure that will be an incentive,” Obi-Wan remarked dryly.

 

“Even so,” Mace Windu said, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. “He might not necessarily have to do this alone.”

 

Ahsoka, watching this by-play, allowed to stay likely because she knew it all already, saw Obi-Wan’s eyes narrow at Mace Windu. She had a good guess what all of this was about. She had known a Jedi Shadow, Taria Damsin, who had passed away recently, her reserves not enough to keep her going all that long after Lanteeb. This sounded like Shadow work if there ever had been.

 

But the rest, it was beyond her, and she was itching to get out of the Council chambers. They had just failed to dismiss her as yet.

 

“Go, you may, Knight-Errant Tano,” Master Yoda said, “Confidential, we ask you to keep this information still.”

 

She bowed, only just catching Master Yoda’s dry smile, and she was thankful that she had already told Erel, which meant that she just couldn’t tell _anyone else_. Perhaps a bit sneaky, but then, she was a Knight- _Errant_ after all.

 

* * *

 

Padme had spent the whole night reviewing the evidence that had been given to her by Master Gallia. The Jedi Master had approached her the previous day with a request: bring the Jedi Order’s charges against Tarkin to the Senate floor. Her eyes had scanned over the words, and she had worked hard to not see what they described in her mind’s eye. She had tried to not picture Ahsoka, her friend, hanging suspended, naked and bleeding, and broken. It had seemed _wrong_ to picture, wrong to conjure these images that no one had any right to.

 

But if the fierce, young woman who had fought so hard for the Republic was to have any justice, Padme had to set her own feelings aside. Her own sorrow for her friend was beside the point, and instead she had focused on preparing the case.

 

Thankfully, it was a closed session. Tarkin was not allowed in, and Ahsoka was exempted from appearing due to her age. Only just under legal adult age, but the law was the law, and as such she was protected from having to appear in court. Instead, there was only a limited number of Senators in attendance, and all were expressly barred from discussing the case with anyone outside of it.

 

Even the Chancellor was not allowed to know the details, as Padme had requested this be handled through the Security Committee. The Admirals had agreed, likely with Erel Kersos bullying them into capitulating to Padme’s demands. The Corellian Admiral had to recuse himself as a matter of course, but that didn’t mean he had kept his opinions to himself.

 

“Thank you, Senator Amidala, for your candor in your presentation,” Bail said, his voice measured, but there was no mistaking the horror in his eyes. “Does anyone on the committee have any objections to the suggested sentence sought by the Jedi Order?”

 

“I’ve half a mind to do them one better,” Admiral Yularen said darkly, “but I appreciate the Order’s instance in avoiding executions. Especially in light of Knight-Errant Tano’s mercy. We must uphold the difference between justice and vengeance.”

 

“Thank you, Senators, Admirals,” Padme said, bowing her head and closing her eyes for a brief moment, as though she were done. Then she inclined her head sharply and went out the other side of Senator and returned to being the Queen she had once been. Or had never stopped being.

 

“But if justice is to be done, we cannot stop at sentencing. You might argue that this is one incident, one instance of a man gone mad. Not so!” she declared, and brought down her datapadd sharply on the desk, triggering a command to display the forensic account data she had stayed up through the night to put together. Herself and an ancient Jedi Master named Tera Sinube.

 

Master Sinube had appeared at her door, not long after Master Gallia had departed, trusting the matter to her hands, with ice in his eyes. She had recalled Anakin telling her about this Jedi standing over Ahsoka’s prone form as Padawan Offee had tried to kill her, about how he had uncovered important data to help find Ahsoka in the undercity.

 

It had long ago ceased to surprise Padme how many friends Ahsoka Tano actually had. The young woman seemed to touch lives no matter where she went, and largely for the better.   A heart such as that drew others to it.

 

The data she presented was disheartening as it was damning: Tarkin had siphoned Republic funds, turning them into cold, hard currency. From there, she and Master Sinube had followed the trail, finding odd purchases from scrap vendors, and uncovering a thriving droid recovery economy that travelled on the back of the war.

 

“The Grand Army lacks proper oversight, gentlemen. Had even marginally adequate checks been in place, this kind of movement would have been discovered. What other excesses are we missing? What other indications of problems do we miss? What could we prevent, if only the Army and Navy were not given such free reign?” she challenged. That earned her hard looks from nearly everyone in the room, save Bail, a man of peace in a time of war.

 

“Senator Amidala, I agree with you that this should have been caught, but now is hardly the time to campaign for it, on the back of a young woman’s suffering. It is more _political_ than I assumed you to be,” Admiral Kilian said, his voice dripping with insult. Rather than draw herself up and retreat into hauteur, she instead raised a delicate eyebrow.

 

“I know Ahsoka Tano rather well, as well as anyone can know a Jedi,” Padme said quietly, but with an iron intensity, her words heavy as they were spoken. “And I know that if I passed by a chance to prevent suffering as she has experienced, she would not thank me. Her life is service, and I have seen her sacrifice much, many times. I have seen her willing to die rather than let innocents suffer, and I have seen her face death with more dignity than any _child_ has a right to. It is _for her_ , in light of what she has been through, that I begin this campaign here and now. Before it is too late. Before _something else_ is missed. Our military cannot run unchecked, and if this is not enough to make you accept it, gentlemen, I shudder to think at what would.”

 

A deaf man could have heard a pin drop in the room.

 

She held their gazes, and watched as their indignation faded into grudging acceptance. It would still be a fight, this, but she would see to it that the military no longer could act so unilaterally, so arbitrarily. It was a fight worth fighting, and she hoped it would help Ahsoka rest easy, to know that not only was her tormenter to be sentenced to life imprisonment with no hope of parole, but that steps were being taken to ensure that nothing like this could happen ever again.

 

Because it was all Padme had to give the brave young woman who deserved so much more.

 

* * *

 

Anakin had been waiting for her outside of the Council chambers, pacing. When Ahsoka emerged, his head jerked up and visibly relaxed. They had ambled through the Temple, both of them quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts. But she had went with him to his rooms, which had once been their rooms, and cleared off a space on the floor as they sat against the couch.

 

“Anything you want to tell me about, Snips?” he asked, softly, as they sat. She tried to draw some comfort from his presence, like she had not even all that long ago. When she had the vision of Rex about to kill her, Rex and his dead eyes. Anakin had been there, so bright and sure and _solid_.

 

There was something dark in him now, like how Barriss and Tarkin had been dark. Closed off and shadowed and hurt. He had to see that he wasn’t alone, and she wasn’t sure if he would see it that way.

 

“Anything _you_ want to tell _me_ , Skyguy?” she asked him in return, her voice dry. He shifted away from her slightly. “Nuh-uh, Skyguy. Spill.”

 

He sighed. Looked away.

 

“You helped me, when I was struggling,” she reminded him.

 

“Shouldn’t I be doing that still?” he asked.

 

“It all comes around,” she said. He huffed

 

“Don’t know if it’s so important what happened, Ahsoka, just that… it’s something I can deal with by myself,” he said.

 

“But not alone,” she said. “I did something that helped me. I _talked_ to people, I told them about what happened to me. Not just what happened to me, but what happened in my head, too.”

 

“Maybe, I’ll tell you one day, but… not now,” he said, something like defeat in his voice. It was strange, to see Anakin like this, like he was lost. She knew, knew now with the experience of having been lost, that all he had to do was reach out. But she also knew how hard it was to reach out, not knowing if someone would reach back.

 

“Well, when you’re ready, I’ll be here,” she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. He gave her a half-smile, a deep distance in his eyes. He patted her hand as if to say he knew she meant what she said, but that he didn’t believe. That maybe he couldn’t make himself believe.

 

She wanted to corner him, like Ekria and Tai and done with her, but she knew that would only make him worse. Anakin never responded well to demands, but she could chip away at the armor he built around himself, with Obi-Wan and Padme’s help. With all three of them at it, maybe, just maybe, he’d remember that he was loved, too. Like she had remembered.

 

* * *

 

Sentenced and left to rot. That was what they hoped his fate would be. Forgotten. No one to admire or fear him, no respect or even a spare thought. They were shortsighted men, and he had still thought, however briefly, that the Chancellor would not abandon him.

 

The Chancellor had presided over the sentencing himself. Not once did the man look his way. Moreover, the man had appeared sorrowful, had wondered aloud if Tarkin had been manipulated by Separatists into striking against the Jedi. Tarkin knew, then, that he had been a pawn. He had been a piece moved for the greater glory of another man. A king never cared for a pawn, no matter how carefully they were used.

 

He had been too angry to even shout down the lie. That, and he knew no one would listen. They thought him mad, and perhaps he was, but that didn’t mean he was easily confused or blind to facts. Instead, he felt like he was finally seeing clearly, for the first time in a long time.

 

Then a figure was approaching. A figure in dark robes and a hood. With a flick of his hand, the men on guard at the door left promptly, as though they were little more than droids. Another flick and the cameras dipped down, apparently off. Then the barrier went down, for just a moment, long enough for a blaster to be tossed in with him.

 

Tarkin didn’t look at it. Instead, his eyes fixed on the dark figure in front of him. Pale skin and fine-boned hands were all that was exposed, but even Tarkin could sense the malice.

 

“Supposed to kill myself, am I?” Tarkin asked. He was going to die tonight, that was certain. That didn’t mean he had to make it easy on the being in front of him.

 

“That is, entirely, up to you,” it said, voice edged with menace. Then it gestured again, and Tarkin was forced to his knees, grabbing for the blaster and pressing it against his own head. His finger was still free. It could be his choice, or not. But form this angle, he could see, just enough, up into the hood and saw a face that, now that he thought about it, should not have surprised him. There was much Tarkin wanted to know, had to know, but he knew the questions would go unanswered.

 

Holding the other man’s gaze, Tarkin pulled the trigger, his one last act, and died.

 

Darth Sidious walked away from the disappointment, his mind turned to other questions. Questions about Skywalker’s readiness, his relationship with the Council, and how to actually isolate the boy for good. Questions about the time remaining for Dooku’s usefulness were coming to a close, and if there might be a few more tasks the man could handle before the end.

 

Later, in the morning, when Tarkin was found dead, Chancellor Palpatine would express sorrow at the tragic end, and insist on tighter security for the prison. After all, it would only be humane to ensure nothing like this ever happened again.

 

He fought not to smile.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka sat in a booth in Dex’s diner, idly sipping at some _caf_ as she contemplated how to handle the Mind Healers for the next two days. She still had to be cleared for duty, and she thought that maybe going right to Master Che might be the easiest way to go about things.

 

Vokara Che was the iron willed dictator of the Halls of Healing, but you could be blunt with her. Ahsoka wasn’t sure she could handle the sensitive kind of Healer. Her friends, the healing circle, that was one thing, but the thoughtful, patient Mind Healers of the Temple put her teeth on edge.

 

But she knew what was really bothering her. The news of Tarkin’s death was all over the holonet. It was ruled a suicide, but she wasn’t so sure. Tarkin hadn’t picked her at random, for all that he had been fixated on her. She had the sense that he had been _sent_. Which, of course, begged the question of who had sent him.

 

Padme and Master Sinube had found all sorts of financial records, stuff even Ekria couldn’t find. The men he had recruited had turned out to be staunch Jedi-haters. Not _Sith_ , just people who thought the Jedi were to blame for their suffering. Recruited and turned strange by sheer darkness of Moriband. But in the end, it was still a mystery who had set Tarkin on his path.

 

All of that meant that someone was annoyed with her enough to try to kill her.

 

For some, that might be distressing, but Ahsoka had begun to recover herself. She still had the people she loved and she still had the Force. Neither was any kind of guarantee, but they gave her a solid foundation on which to stand.

 

So, someone wanted her dead. And not just dead, but destroyed.  She smiled, the smile of a huntress, to think that she must be doing something right, if that was the case.

 

“Hey, kid,” Dex said, refilling her cup of _caf_ from a pot that was likely older than Obi-Wan. “You need anything else?” A funny question, she thought, but then her grin softened as she looked up at the Besalisk.

 

“You know what, Dex? I think I’m good. Just being where I am right now,” she said, and then he smiled back.

 

There was still a war going on, her men to look after, Skyguy to take care of from a distance, and a lot of new feelings she wasn’t completely sure how to deal with. But for the moment, she could be herself again, through the darkness and in the light.

 

And that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have wandered off the charted course,  
> To find the shadows creeping close.  
> My feet are drawn to a darkened road,  
> Without the stars to guide my way.
> 
> My back is shattered, my head is shorn,  
> I crawl through the mud and the mire.  
> Fearing the empty heart, I carry a burden,  
> As heavy as another man’s hate.
> 
> These scars on my back, earned on the altar,  
> A legacy of sacrifice, to reach the light again.  
> \--Zin
> 
> Thank you, thank you SO MUCH everyone for reading, giving kudos, and especially everyone who commented and reassured me I wasn't making a pigs ear of this topic. Thank you for following Knight-Errant, and travelling with me through this very dark chapter of the series. Alas, I cannot reward you all with more lighthearted fic right away. 
> 
> In other words, I'm on a little hiatus. Knight-Errant IS plotted and WILL BE finished. But between work and personal life (and the next fic having pacing issues, yikes!), writing is not progressing at the usual pace. I hope that's not too much of a let down. You've all been completely fantastic, and we'll get there yet! Promise.
> 
> Take care of yourselves (and each other) out there.
> 
> <3


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